Tethered
by Verkaiking
Summary: A/N: They killed him, and it was stupid. So I'm fixing it. Short multi-chapter canon OQ fix-it fic loosely inspired by The Lake House.
1. Chapter 1

**_Not much to say here except they killed Robin and I think that's stupid, so I'm fixing it._**

 ** _Starts at the end of season 5, after they bring back the Charmings, Hook and Zelena through the fountain in NY. All canon elements included except the whole split Regina business, scratch that out._**

* * *

They've gotten everyone back, and Regina could not be prouder of her son for igniting belief –however brief- in all those strangers by the fountain. She's lucky to have him, lucky to be loved and believed in by him.

But right now, she doesn't _feel_ lucky. Right now, she's noticing that Emma and Henry have gone to get food, and the Charmings and Zelena have left for the hotel rooms they've booked for the night. Right now, Regina is noticing she's truly, finally alone for the first time since Robin died.

The realization makes something click inside her, shatters her composure and unleashes every tear and frustrated scream she's been working so hard to keep at bay. Suddenly she's throwing things, grabbing anything in sight and hurling it at the walls, yelling out her grief and the pain she's been neglecting. The pain that has been eating at her with no outlet because she's had to appear calm, collected, so that no one would think she'd be slipping back into the darkness inside her.

It's a good ten minutes of crying and shouting and glass-breaking before she collapses, falling to her knees on the cold floor as the tears continue to leak from her eyes.

Emma's kind words from earlier taunt her, the well-meant message serving as nothing but a mockery of Regina's feelings as it plays around in her head. Like a contradicting soundtrack to the flashes of Robin's soul being ripped from him, of his body falling limp and dead at her feet.

Exhausted and short of breath, Regina rises, letting her magic flow as she aims a hand towards a broken vase, a cracked picture frame, and several plates, repairing one after the other, until nothing is left of her angry mourning but the salty drops still clinging to her cheeks.

She feels… stifled, suffocated by the heart wrenching pain of it all, and she removes her jacket in an attempt to be able to breathe, throwing the leather at the small couch with a measured gasp as she grabs onto the bookshelf beside her and tries to compose herself.

Something white falls out of the jacket when it lands on the cushions, entering her line of sight from the corner of her eye. Regina turns to it. It's his letter. The one he wrote but could never bring himself to send, the one that found its way to her regardless, like a message from beyond the grave, telling her that what they had was _real_ , that he had loved all of her, that he had _chosen_ her.

She reads it again, more tears brimming in her eyes as she stares at the handwritten proof of his affection for her, words that speak of how proud she'd made him, of the happiness she'd brought him, and it's all too much.

She can't talk to anyone, can't look into the eyes of her stepdaughter or Emma without seeing their apprehension, seeing the underlying fear that the Evil Queen will return. Emma would probably push past that fear, would probably be sympathetic and understand her pain, but she's just gotten her own dead lover back, and the thought that the universe has somehow decided Hook deserves to live while Robin does not, makes anger bubble up inside Regina. She'd rather avoid a conflict with her friend over this, for Henry's sake.

Henry. Her precious boy. Her little prince. He wants to be there for her, is frustrated that he can't use his magic pen to bring Robin back for her. She's seen it, seen how he feels her loss as badly as she does, and she's his mother, she should be taking care of him, not the other way around. She won't unload her sadness unto him, won't show the full brunt of her heartache to him if she can help it. Her son should not carry her grief for her.

There's a stationary kit in the corner of the shelf, the same make and color as the one Robin's letter is written on, and an idea occurs to her then. She's alone, after all, doesn't have someone she can open up to, not anymore, so what has she got to lose, really? There's a pain in her heart that needs soothing, like a needle being pushed into her over and over again, right next to the void left by Robin's soul when it was taken from him, from _her_. And maybe it's a stupid idea, but she has nothing else.

Regina brings the stationary kit with her to the dining table, grabs the pen lodged in the little pad of paper stuck to the fridge, and she writes.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what I feel, exactly, except that it hurts._

 _You shouldn't have died for me. I'm not worth it, I never was. And now your children will grow up without their wonderful father, and I won't get to spend my life with you, and this whole thing is just so unfair._

 _I'm sorry. I love you, and I am so, so sorry. You deserved better than this. Better than me._

There's more she wants to say. So much more, but she can't find the words, can't properly put into writing how horrible it all is. And so she just signs it, writes her name with a shaky hand and folds up the piece of paper, tucking it into a matching envelope and then placing it inside _The Adventures of Robin Hood_ , where she'd found his own letter just this morning.

Henry arrives with Emma not ten minutes later, and while Emma unpacks the food, Regina ducks into the bathroom. She quickly washes away the tear tracks on her cheeks, adjusts her outfit and hair, and puts her calm-and-collected mask back on.

But her son isn't fooled, and is waiting for her outside the bathroom door, offers her a tight hug that makes it impossible for her to keep her sadness hidden from him, has her crying all over again, this time into his shoulder as he holds her and runs a comforting hand up and down her back.

There will never be an end to her misery. She knows that now.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Alright how are we liking this so far? Drop me a line and let me know, pretty please =)_**

 ** _New chapter time, enjoy!_**

* * *

The light is strange. Bright, yellowy beams of it press against his closed eyelids, warmth seeping into his skin as he tries to make sense of the soft texture under his back. He moves, shifts a little to the side to avoid the sunny annoyance permeating his face, and his nose ends up pressed against something. A pillow, maybe?

He can't open his eyes yet, they seem sealed shut somehow, but the soft hint of lavender that reaches him as he breathes into the fabric is unmistakable, brings back memories of dark, silky tresses and deep brown eyes, of elusive smiles and eager kisses.

"Regina?" he calls out, but there's no reply. Only the wind as it slithers into wherever it is he's been transported to. But there's a high-pitched sound accompanying the gust blowing in... he hears a sniffle, a choked sob. It's distant and dull, but he hears it.

"Regina?" he calls again, moving to sit up. His tightly shut eyes seem to loosen then, and he's finally able to open them, to take in his surroundings and realize he's in New York. In his apartment, to be exact. And there's the crying again, still distant and muffled, but as the confusion begins to ebb away, he is able to confirm who the sobs are coming from. He's heard that sound far too many times before, has quieted that sound with gentle caresses and heartfelt reassurances more times than he can count.

"Regina, where are you?!" he calls out, panic settling in his heart when the next thing he hears is a scream. It still sounds far away, but it pierces his soul all the same. Wait. His soul?

Memories, all of them painful and clear, suddenly invade his mind, his senses, he can hear Hades laughing, can see Regina's tearful face as he'd turned to gaze upon her one last time. He can even sense the echo of the slight burning he'd felt, when the crystal's lightning bolt had gone into him.

He's supposed to be dead. His soul should have been obliterated after that blow, his very existence wiped from the world. He shouldn't be here. This makes no sense.

But he _is_ here, and he can still hear Regina crying, can hear the frustration in her angry shouts, and it has him checking the apartment for her, aching to hold her. But she's not here. No one is. He's alone. But he's not, he can _hear_ her, dammit, he can sense her, had smelled her on his sheets upon waking. She must be here, she has to be.

The sound of glass crashing and breaking tells him she's just smashed the vase on the coffee table, but when he goes to check, the vase is there, intact. He doesn't understand what's happening, or what to do, and he can hear her crying again, quietly now, wet sobs in the distance.

It kills him, has him longing so much to be with her that he starts crying, too, yells out her name again, hoping she'll hear him like he does her, but there's no answer, only her sniffles and heavy breathing.

He stays there, sinks to the floor and weeps for her, wanting to wrap his arms around her, to kiss away her tears and tell her that he's here, that somehow he survived, that he loves her. Desperation overpowers every other urge and feeling in him when he realizes he can't do any of those things.

—

It's been about a half hour since she's gone quiet, and as tortured as he feels being away from her, there's a measure of relief in knowing she's no longer crying.

He hopes she's fallen asleep, that she manages to get some rest, wherever she is. She's always so tired, always exhausted from battling demons and saving the town at the expense of herself. He'd vowed to care for her, to make sure she was healthy and looked after, to make sure she knew, every day, that she was loved. That she mattered.

Instead, he's here, trapped in this strange limbo and forced to listen to her pain while he can't do anything to stop it, to soothe it the way he wants to.

What a cruel joke life is.

The rustling of pages startles him then. He thinks he imagines it at first, but then hears it a second time, clear and tangible, not distant like Regina's cries, and it sparks a glimmer of hope inside him.

Robin follows the sound, finds the copy of _The Adventures of Robin Hood_ Regina gave him, placed haphazardly on the shelf. The rustling gets louder when he grabs it, even though the pages aren't moving.

He traces the spine of the book fondly, remembering easier, happier times, when he'd cuddle with her in her too-soft bedsheets and read from it, clarifying and explaining the stories that weren't exactly accurate, laughing at the exaggerations that the writers of this world had added to the tales of his life…

He remembers the letter he wrote her, the one he'd tucked into this very book all those months ago, and opens the front cover to find it, only it's not there.

Instead, there's a new envelope, blank and unsealed, and he frowns curiously.

Placing the book carefully back on the shelf, he lifts the flap with shaky fingers, takes out the folded piece of paper inside, and he gasps.

It's a letter from Regina. But she hasn't been here since she came to rescue him from Zelena, when would she...

It doesn't matter, he realizes, because all he wants is to read it, to find any clue that will help him figure out where she is, and how he can get back to her.

It's full of heartbreak, the letter, paper stained with words of hopelessness and self-deprecation that he had promised to kiss away for the rest of his days, until Hades had so cruelly intervened.

His murder is a reality for her, that much he knows now. So he _did_ die, he deduces, but for some reason the crystal didn't 'end' him, like Hades said it would.

He doesn't know exactly how this works. Doesn't know if he's trapped somewhere, or if this is the real world and he's just been swept off in some curse that stops him from seeing her. But there are a few spots marring the ink on her letter, evidence of the tears he'd just heard her shed, Robin realizes, a couple of them not fully dry yet.

The letter is recent, must've been written mere minutes ago, in whatever plain of existence she is that he isn't, and if it got to him, he thinks, maybe he can reply. Maybe he can communicate with her through whatever this magic is that keeps them connected.

Robin rummages through the stationary kit, then puts pen to paper, and writes.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Alright, all. Let's continue fixing this._**

* * *

 _My dearest Regina,_

 _I heard you cry today. Can't say I've ever experienced something as terrible as hearing you suffer and not being able to stop it._

 _I don't know what's happening, but it seems Hades lied about the crystal. I am here, and I love you. I don't regret what I did, and I would do it again a hundred times over. You are worth it, Regina, and I can't wait to have you in my arms again and tell you this a million times, until you believe me over your own voice saying that you don't._

 _Whatever it takes, I will follow my heart back to you, if only so I can show you how deserving you are of every happiness._

 _-Robin_

Regina stares at the words on the page, scrawled in a handwriting she's come to know more than her own by now, and she's... terrified.

At 8:15 this morning, she'd grabbed the book to retrieve the letter she'd written last night, only to find that it was gone, replaced with this. She'd somehow thought maybe he'd left two letters unsent, that maybe he'd tried to communicate with her twice when he lived here. But that's not the case. This letter is new, is a reply to her own, and she has no idea what twisted magic is at play here, but she wants no part in it. Refuses to believe that something like this can be possible when she buried him in Storybrooke not three days ago.

"My parents are coming over with your sister in about an hour, we'll load up on snacks at the grocery store down the street and then we can go."

Emma's voice startles her, has her shoving the letter back into the book and closing it with a loud thud.

"No," Regina tells her, "we need to leave now."

"Regina, it's fine, we'll still make it there before sundown."

"We need to go back right now," she urges, not even listening to Emma's confused reaction. Her eyes are on Henry, who looks at her curiously, then nods.

"Mom, if mom says we need to leave now, then we need to leave now."

"What's up, kid? Know something I don't?" Emma asks, and Regina rolls her eyes.

"No," her son says, "but I just... I trust her, okay? Let's just go."

Emma sighs, clearly torn between appeasing Henry and wanting to dig more into the issue, but eventually she juts her chin towards the door, hands in her jean pockets after she adjusts her jacket.

"Fine," she shrugs, "I'll call mom."

The atmosphere inside the car is tense, charged, and Regina can feel Henry's eyes boring into her, but refuses to look back at him, is too scared of what she's seen to talk about it right now. Emma prods a little, tries to get her to explain the sudden change in their schedule, but Regina does not budge, and her blond friend gives up with an annoyed shake of her head as they speed on, Zelena and the Charmings trailing just behind in the car they've rented.

The rest of the ride passes quietly, and Regina is thankful for the time alone with her thoughts until they get home.

She looks straight at David when they all park outside Granny's and exit the vehicles, the door of Emma's bug screeching as Henry hauls it shut.

"I need you to dig open Robin's grave."

Her request shocks him, to say the least, and then it's Snow who's speaking, throwing her a warning look and a guarded "Regina?" as she freezes.

"You heard me," she answers, looking at David still. "My magic is a little... skewed by my emotions right now, I don't want to risk it, so I need your help. And we need to do it now."

The prince opens his mouth for a moment, then promptly closes it, looking around desperately for anyone to voice whatever concern he has.

"Sis?" comes Zelena's curious voice, and Regina speaks to her without taking her eyes off of David.

"You need to find a quiet spot in the forest and open that portal again, get the Merry Men and Roland back here. Tell them it's safe now, and they belong here with us. With me."

"I... alright, but...?"

"Do as I ask, please," she says, and her sister goes quiet. She sees her nod her head out of the corner of her eye, and then walk away to work on her task.

"What are you doing, Regina?" Emma asks, her tone firm and suspicious.

"Nothing that requires your judgment, Miss Swan," she replies.

"No, you don't get to 'Miss Swan' me right now. Why do you want to open Robin's grave?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Regina pays her no mind, looks to Snow now, says, "I need to do this. Just trust me."

"What you need to do is grieve, Regina," her step-daughter insists, her tone bordering on condescending, "and this is not the way."

"This isn't about grief!" she snaps back in desperation, then takes a deep, calming breath before she looks to David again, her eyes pleading, tears brimming in them.

"Please," she begs, "I just have to know."

"Know what?" David asks, finally speaking, his face scrunching up in confusion and curiosity.

"Mom?" Henry asks, apprehensive.

"I'll tell you all about it if there's anything to tell, I promise," she placates. "But first, I need to open that coffin."

She doesn't know exactly what it is that convinces them, but David finally nods, tells her to give him a moment while he heads inside the diner and borrows Granny's shovel.

In minutes they're all at the cemetery, standing over the headstone that reads ROBIN HOOD in an elegant font, and David begins to dig.

The arrows come first, caked in dirt and mud around the edges, the red rosebuds tied around them now displaying a brownish tint as their petals have begun to dry. The sight makes Regina nauseous.

"Kid, come with me," she hears Emma say two hours later, when they've brought the small crane over and used it to haul the coffin up from its hole. "You don't need to see this."

"I'm not leaving my mom," he says adamantly, and Regina loves him for it. Emma's right, though, Henry shouldn't be seeing this, especially if her theory is wrong and Robin's body is still in there. It's only been three days, so decomposition will not have started yet, but there's something dark and twisted about seeing your hero lay dead inside a wooden box, and she doesn't want her son to be part of that. It's why the ceremony had been closed casket in the first place. So that he and Roland wouldn't have to witness something like that.

"Henry, please," she tells her son, "listen to Emma, okay? I'll call you when it's over."

He huffs out a breath, but obeys, follows Emma to the far corner, where they stand next to a giant pine tree and wait.

David is gasping for breath after all the digging, so it's Snow who presses her hands against the coffin, dusting off some of the dirt clinging to it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asks, and Regina swallows, hesitates, but...

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure," she says in a shaky voice. "Open it."

She takes a deep breath, then pushes at the heavy lid along with Snow, and together they lift, peer into the coffin.

"What the hell?" David's baffled tone joins their gasps.

It's empty.

The white linens inside the polished wood are no longer occupied by the body they'd put there. Robin is nowhere to be found.

A tear escapes Regina, and that traitorous feeling of hope starts to slither inside her. She vaguely hears Snow call Emma and Henry back, vaguely registers their reactions when they see there's no one inside the casket.

"Mom," Henry pleads. His eyes are shining with that same emotion now making its way through the very bones of her, a cautious smile appearing on his face to mirror her own. "Tell us what's happening."

So she does. Pulls out his letter from her coat and explains all about it. About the book where she'd found it and how she'd written to him in an attempt to calm her pain. She tells them everything, clutches that letter to her chest as she does, and then it's her son who voices the one thing she hasn't been able to.

"So he's alive," he says, and hearing it, out loud and clear, has her crying all over again, shaking her head even as she smiles.

"I don't really know, Henry, but I want to figure it out."

"His body's not here, mom, and he's writing to you, he told you he could hear you! He has to be. Maybe he's just trapped somewhere and needs our help."

"I've never encountered anything like this," she admits, looking at all of them, but particularly at Snow and David, "I tried bringing Daniel back by taking Whale from his own twisted world and into ours, because there wasn't any other way. I don't know how this works."

"We'll figure it out," Emma tells her, nodding, "we'll help."

"Mom," Henry offers, "what if you talk to the Dragon?"

"The Dragon?"

"Well, yeah, he's been working with magic in this land for ages, right? And he helped us in New York. Maybe if you show him the letter, he'll know how to help Robin."

"That's actually not a bad idea," David offers, and Snow smiles.

"Now's your chance," she tells Regina. "Go. We'll take care of Roland when he gets here and keep an eye on Zelena with the baby."

"Don't tell Roland anything, please. Or the Merry Men, I don't want to get their hopes up in case..."

 _In case we fail_ , she thinks, but doesn't say, and the words left unspoken lay heavy between them as she stares at Snow, who nods once in acquiescence.

"Understood," she says with a smile. "Now go. Get your true love back."

Regina then turns to address Henry, about to tell him to be good and help out as much as he can, but she finds him hoisting his backpack back onto his shoulder, a determined look on his face.

"Don't even think about telling me to stay," he warns.

"Henry, you just got back, and you have Violet and school and—"

"Mom, I'm coming with you," he reiterates, "now let's go home, grab the Benz, and head back to New York."

He looks… happy. Excited. And it dawns on her then that he believes. He believes that this can work, believes she can get Robin back, be happy again. She may not believe in herself right now, but Henry does. And that is enough.

New York City is crowded, loud, stifling (what with all those too-tall buildings blocking your view at every turn), but as they park her Mercedes outside the apartment building, and her heels walk the familiar pathway up the stairs, Regina can't help but breathe out her relief.

The bags they packed quickly at the manor before leaving now rest propped up against the bookshelf, and she takes a moment to think, to organize.

"Is this where you found it?" Henry asks, interrupting her still-chaotic mind not two minutes later. Regina opens her eyes to find him holding the book, his fingers wrapped firmly around the spine as he stares curiously at the title emblazoned at the top.

"It is," she confirms, "It was just sitting there... waiting for me."

"We'll get him back, mom," he assures her, no doubt noticing the slight tremor she thought she could hide from her voice.

"Thank you," she says, "for believing that."

Her precious son smiles, squeezes her hand.

"What are we waiting for?" he asks her then, "Let's go see the Dragon."

The smell of incense and herbs greets them as they enter the tiny shop a half hour later, and the man behind the counter smiles, as if he'd been expecting them.

"Regina," he greets. "Young Henry."

"We need your help," her son says at once, his tone firm and urgent.

"I've already told you, I can't make magic, you have to-"

"Find it, I know," Regina interrupts, finally finding her voice. "This isn't about that."

"Then by all means, tell me how I can be of use."

She launches into the story, relives Robin's last moments by her side and explains every little detail, forcing herself to speak through the tears that now fall freely down her face. The Dragon listens intently, _Mmm_ s and _Ah_ s every few sentences, until she's out of words, out of breath, her pain raw and at the surface once again.

"He made the ultimate sacrifice for you," he says ominously, and Regina rolls her teary eyes at him.

"Don't you think I know that?! What I need you to tell me is what's going on with these letters!" she snaps, uncaring about how rude she sounds, desperation lacing her tone and her actions.

"No, you don't understand, my dear," the Dragon insists. "The hell god wasn't lying, that crystal will end any soul it touches. But your noble thief laid down his life for you, his _soul mate_ , out of love, and that's as strong a brand of magic as the lightning bolt that hit him. That kind of sacrifice, Regina, that kind of love, leaves a mark."

"A mark?" Henry asks, curious.

"Yes, my young friend." The man turns to look at him now, and Regina watches, baffled, as he explains to her son, "You see, when Robin Hood sacrificed himself to save your mother, the connection between their souls was strengthened."

He pauses then, waiting for Henry to digest the information before he continues, "That connection is what sheltered him from the full brunt of the crystal. His soul wasn't obliterated as it should have been. Just... misplaced."

"Misplaced?" Regina asks then.

"I'm assuming the magic was strong enough to reunite him with his body, since you've explained it wasn't where you buried it, but I suspect that alone probably required a lot of power, so the rest of his... cosmic rescue, so to speak, is a little skewed."

"You mean he's alive, just not here," Henry intervenes, and the Dragon nods.

"Exactly, dear boy. What you need to find out now is where he is. Only then will we know how to bring him back."

Their walk back to the apartment should be fast, should be filled with panting and the quick clicking of her heels on the asphalt as they hurry back so they can start their mission... instead, it's slow.

They linger as they walk down the street, their steps measured, hesitant. Henry is bouncing with excitement, she can feel it radiating into her from where he walks beside her, but Regina's mind is in an entirely different place, a dark place, one where a voice that sounds a lot like Gold's tells her she won't pull this off, that this is just fate's way of mocking her, that she'll never be happy. She doesn't deserve to.

"Mom," Henry calls, interrupting their already turtle-like pace to stand in front of her, searching her eyes. "I'm here. I'll help you. We'll find him."

"How can you be so sure?" she asks, not even bothering to disguise the fear in her voice.

"I'm half Charming," he says with a grin and a shrug. "Finding loved ones is kinda our thing."

He hugs her then, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, a moment of respite among the fast rhythm of the city and the frantic thumping of her heart.

Regina smiles through her tears, clutches her son, and breathes.

* * *

 _ **Sooo... do I get extra points for fixing this with a Harry Potter reference?**_

 _ **Drop me a line and let me know, guys!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Here, have some feels._**

* * *

Regina's newest letter is sitting inside the book the next morning, just like the previous one. Robin is baffled at first, by the fact that they really can communicate, but his shock wears off as he takes in the meaning of her words.

 _We've spoken to a friend of sorts_ , the letter says, penned in her elegant script, then goes on to tell him that giving up his soul for her is what kept him alive (he notices how brief she is in this part of her explanation, and he just knows that the reason for that is she still doesn't think herself worthy of his sacrifice). Robin reads on.

 _This... friend, says you might be trapped in another realm, but we can fix it. He has more experience with this sort of magic than I do, so I'm inclined to trust him. Robin, we need you to take a good look around, focus on details, things that seem peculiar to you, anything that might help us figure out where you are, and report back, so we can come up with a plan to bring you home._

 _I miss you._

 _Be careful._

 _-Regina._

She's scared. He can tell by the formal, almost detached way in which she writes. And then those last few words, the ones he's sure tumbled out of her at the last minute, words of home and nostalgia, they speak so clearly of the glimmer of hope still left in her, of that one ray of light her sadness has yet to snuff out.

He will fight for that glimmer, will strive to make it shine brighter and brighter, until it overpowers the shadow that looms over her soul, a shadow he can feel eating at his own heart now that he's away from her.

Robin does as she says, spends his day outside, interacts with his surroundings and takes notice of everything. The restaurants and shops that line the streets (some are different than he remembers from his time here, but he brushes it off. Surely in a city as fast as New York, commercial establishments change all the time). He scribbles every detail on an old notebook as he goes. Visits the park nearby, walks by the pharmacy two blocks away...

He rewrites every detail later that night, on a new blank sheet of paper from the stationary set, adding in words of his feelings for her, tiny snippets meant to reignite that flame of hope in her heart.

 _Regina,_

 _This is great news. I was starting to think I'd have to live the rest of my days without your lasagna and your good bourbon._

 _I've taken a look around, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. I'm in New York, in my apartment, same as you, it seems, only I don't ever see you. I listened for you today, but it's been silent since that first time. Quite the disappointment, to be honest. I miss your voice._

 _Please do not blame yourself for any of this, my love. It was my choice, and I do not regret it. We'll figure this out. It won't be long before we're together again._

 _All the things Roland and I left when we moved back home with you are still here, and the only thing that changes is our book, when it delivers my letters to you and yours to me. I wish I could be more helpful, but I can't really find anything that would indicate I'm in a different realm. Maybe it's a magical pocket within our world? Or a curse? I'm not very well-versed in all this, but let's hope your friend can help._

 _There's a small bakery around the corner, quite cozy, I never noticed it when I lived here. Mrs. Capparelli, the owner, is a very sweet old woman, and she and her husband have this age-old biscotti recipe that is apparently famous around these parts. Might go for a coffee there tomorrow while I read your newest letter, so I hope it's a long one. Tell me about your day, about everyone. How's my son? And Henry? And my beautiful daughter? How are things back home?_

 _I miss you._

 _-Robin._

With one last look over his words, he places the new letter inside the envelope where he'd found hers, then tucks it into his book.

When he checks the hardcover a few minutes later, the letter is gone, and Robin exhales his relief.

* * *

Her reply reaches him just as he's getting ready the morning after. He's pulled on some of the clothes he'd left behind when he abandoned this place, and is staring at the book when the rustling of pages announces the arrival of Regina's letter. It's longer than the last, he notices as he pulls it out of the envelope, and he smiles the entire ten minutes it takes him to walk to the bakery.

When he arrives, he chooses a seat by the window, and a tiny cup of espresso is placed before him by Mr. Capparelli. He speaks with an accent not unlike Marco's, and it makes Robin smile, makes him feel more at ease even after the old man has moved to tend to the young couple on the next table.

The biscotti is excellent, just as the sign on the door had promised, and Robin takes a large bite of it as he finally opens the letter, his heart thump-thump-thumping as he reads.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _There's no bakery around the corner, just a Mongolian barbecue place (not the healthiest of meals, if you ask me, but Henry loves it). This could be a clue. I'll look into it._

 _I'm afraid the bourbon is gone. But I will gladly buy a new bottle —or several— for us to share when this is over._

 _My days haven't been as eventful as I would like. I keep trying to find a way to bring you back here, but so far no luck. My friend (I'm still on the fence about whether that's an acceptable term), the Dragon, has been quite helpful, but I'm afraid until we figure out where you are, there's not much we can do._

 _I'll take another walk tonight and see if I find that bakery, maybe I overlooked it, too. Would you look for the Mongolian restaurant? See if it's there?_

 _Henry has been wonderful. He's here with me, in New York, helping me fix this. I didn't want him to come, I was so worried I'd put him in danger, but it appears he inherited my stubbornness. Having him here has been a blessing, though. He supports me, keeps me grounded. I'm lucky to be his mother._

 _Roland and your men went back to the Enchanted Forest after we lost you. There was a threat to the town, and it was safer to just get him away from all this. Zelena helped make that happen, oddly enough, and then got trapped in some other world with the Charmings and the pirate. Thankfully, Henry brought them back, and now that Storybrooke is safe again, my sister will reopen the portal and bring Roland home, along with Little John and the others. She's, well, you know how she is, but I trust her with this, and don't worry, I'll make sure Roland is safe and well protected while I'm here in New York searching for you._

 _He's a good boy. He left me a feather from one of your arrows before he went through the portal. Zelena gave it to me before I drove back here. I was so touched that he thought me deserving of that gift, especially knowing how much his little mementos mean to him, how much he cherishes everything you ever gave him. You are loved, Robin, and you are missed._

 _The baby is doing great. Last I heard from home, she's sleeping through the night and everyone is quite fascinated with her. She's growing up so fast, and she looks more and more like you every day. Did I tell you she has a name now? Robin, after her daddy._

 _How was the biscotti?_

 _Love,_

 _-Regina._

He can feel himself choking up as he finishes reading. Robin. They'd given his name to his child when they thought she'd never know him, when they'd wanted to keep his memory alive for her. The gesture makes his heart ache for his family, for Regina and his sons (he's come to think of Henry as one by now) and baby girl.

The biscotti taste like ashes after that, but he doesn't tell her this. Instead, he writes of the rich almond flavor of it, writes about how the espresso he drank reminded him of her and their mornings together. He writes about his day, his interactions with Mr. Capparelli, his run-in with the grouchy postman...

He tells her he misses her, tells her how much he longs to hold her, and sends his love to the boys, asks Regina to give the baby a kiss next time she sees her, and thanks her for the honor of passing his name onto her.

He doesn't mention Zelena, doesn't acknowledge her heroic actions. Being back in the apartment has painted a fresh coat of pain on the horrible memories swirling in his mind, enhancing the feelings of betrayal and disgust that he'd thought dulled forever. He'd told Regina he would give her sister a second chance, and he'd meant it. But right now, surrounded by the reminders of what the Wicked Witch did to him, Robin doesn't feel like honoring that vow.

He spends most of the night wide awake, silently wallowing in the misery he's found himself in. He flops onto the cold and empty bed, hoping the fates cut him some slack and allow him to hear Regina again...

His sadness lulls him to sleep when he doesn't.

* * *

The next day, he figures it out.

He's at the bakery again, sitting down to read Regina's newest letter, when Mr. Capparelli places the morning paper before him, grumbling about one of the articles on the front page. But Robin doesn't even look at the giant black letters announcing a higher price for MTA transport. Instead, his eyes are drawn to the top right hand corner, widening as he realizes they've been getting it all wrong.

"I've to go, put it on my tab," he says to the old man, then darts out of there, runs the short way back to the apartment, and scribbles on the stationary so fast, the tip of the pen actually rips the paper a little.

 _Regina,_

 _I'm so sorry, I've been looking at this all wrong._

 _Instead of trying to figure out where I was, I should've been noticing when I was, if that makes sense._

 _Today's date for me is May 29, 2016, not 2015._

 _Is this possible? Can you still bring me back? What do you need from me?_

 _Whatever I have to do to get home to you, I will do it. Just tell me how I can help._

 _-Robin._

He shoves the note into the book, foregoing the envelope and accidentally wrinkling the first couple of pages in his haste.

There's not much left to do, so Robin merely sits at his desk, and stares intently at the depiction of him on the book cover for what feels like hours, though the clock has only marked twenty minutes since he sent the letter.

A few minutes after that, the rustling sound he's come to think of as his lifeline alerts him to the arrival of Regina's answer.

 _Robin,_

 _Thank you so much for the info._

 _Henry says we should be relieved that we're at least in the same realm, but I can't help feeling even more disheartened. This is just my luck, that you'd be right here, but still out of my reach. I suppose I should've known that my time for retribution was not up. I'll never stop paying for all the horrible things I did in the past._

 _The Dragon says you shouldn't leave New York to find us in your time, it could disrupt everything and have terrible consequences. I'm so sorry, but I don't know what happens a year from now, so I can't promise that I'll be in Storybrooke, or that everyone will be safe if you return then._

 _Unfortunately, the Dragon doesn't know of a spell to travel to the future, and neither do I, so I have no idea how to go and get you. But we're working on finding one, or if we don't, we'll figure out a way to at least freeze your timeline (much like I did with my first curse), and then I can catch up to you._

 _If that happens, it'll be at least a year before we see each other again. I can't ask you to wait for me, so please, don't. I'm just glad you're safe, and that you have a chance to live. Once we figure out how to stop time on your end, I'll bring your children to you as soon as our timelines converge._

 _-Regina._

He's messily scrawling his answer before he's even done reading, breathing heavily as he desperately begs her not to lose faith. Tries to make her understand that his love for her is definite. Unchanging. And he won't walk away from it, from her. He did that once before, and it was excruciating.

 _Regina,_

 _Don't you dare._

 _Don't you dare give up on us. None of this is your fault. It was my choice, and I would stand in front of that crystal a hundred times over if it meant saving your life. This is just a bit of bad luck. It doesn't matter, we'll push through it just like we've always done._

 _I told you that day, that you are my future, and I meant it. I'll wait as long as I have to for us to start our life together. Tell me that you won't give up hope._

 _We're soul mates, Regina. I can't unlove you, I can't just tell my heart not to beat for you and move on, so please don't ask that of me. Not again._

 _Fight for us._

This time, he has to wait over an hour for her response, and he supposes she's digesting it, thinking about it, trying to decide what she wants to do. That's fine, he concludes, she can take all the time she needs, she has a right to. But gods, if it doesn't kill him to stand there and watch every torturous second tick by.

Finally, the pages call to him, and he finds her answer is short, to the point, communicating her fears and her feelings all to him in a few short sentences.

 _I don't know what I did to deserve you._

 _I do love you. So much. But I'm scared._

 _What if this thing keeps us apart forever? What if that is my fate? To live out my life knowing you're here but not really here? What if that's the new torture that the universe has prepared for me?_

 _What if I never see you again, Robin?_

His answer is just as short, just as concise, but no less heartfelt as he writes more words of encouragement and love.

 _Regina,_

 _We'll find our way back to each other. I know the horizon looks bleak right now, but we will see each other again. I can feel it._

 _You're incredible, in every single challenge you rise to the occasion and conquer. I have never seen you fail. You'll figure it out. We will figure it out. I believe in you._

 _I love you._

Her reply comes only ten minutes later this time, and it's only one sentence.

 _I don't think I have faith in myself anymore._

He responds in kind, with just one sentence just like she did, but one that calls back to simpler times, to the very beginning of their relationship, one that sums up everything:

 _Use mine for the both of us_.


	5. Chapter 5

**_So sorry for the delay in updating. Life has been hectic and I've had precious little writing time. I'm hoping the next chapter won't take that long to be posted. Anyway. ENJOY! And as always, let me know what you think._**

* * *

She smiles. Tears falling down her cheeks as she reads Robin's short reply.

 _Use mine for the both of us._

She remembers the first time he said those words to her, back when her heart had been stolen and her feelings were dulled by the separation. He'd taken her hand, placed it on his chest, and offered his own heart to her, confident that his feelings for her were strong enough to carry them both.

And now, now he's showing her that he loves her, that he trusts her. He's using his faith in her to boost her own, and the gesture has her crying and laughing all at the same time.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Henry asks from the doorway. Regina looks up to address him, frowns instinctively at the to-go box of Mongolian barbecue in his hand. He really ought to be eating something healthier, she thinks, but makes no mention of it as she answers.

"I'm fine," she assures him.

"You're crying," Henry remarks as he walks further into the room and sits next to her at the foot of the bed, noticing the piece of paper in her hand. "Is that from Robin?"

"Yes," Regina admits. "He, um, he wanted me to know that he believes in me."

Henry smiles at that, bumping his shoulder against hers.

"I believe in you, too. We'll find a way to bring him back."

She sighs at that, and says, before she can catch herself, "I hope so."

"Hope, huh?" her son asks with a wink, and she rolls her eyes playfully at him, then folds the short letter back up and sets it on the mattress beside her.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Henry," she confesses, staring down at her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"I don't think anyone does... until they do it," he says, and she feels him shrug against her.

He's right, she realizes. She hadn't known the first thing about being a mother when she adopted him, but she did it anyway, learned along the way. The same thing happened when she went to Neverland to rescue him, and then to Camelot to save Emma. She'd had no idea what she was doing, until she'd done it.

"When did you get to be so smart?" she asks, a small smile appearing when she looks at him.

His tone is casual when he tells her, "Got it from my mom," and she'd ask which mother he's referring to, but the look in his eyes makes it clear to Regina that it's her. Her grin widens.

* * *

 _Dear Regina,_

 _At the risk of sounding like your teenage son: this sucks._

 _Being away from you is torture. It kills me to know you might be out there in this time and I can't go to you, that I can't go and see my children. I miss them so much. They're growing, learning new things, and I can't see it, and it hurts. Please tell Granny to take pictures. Dozens of them. I want to see every single one when I get back, and I want to know all the stories._

 _I'm sorry that this letter isn't as chipper as the rest, I'm just having a really tough day, apparently._

 _I listened to that song you told me about, the one from the movie Roland is obsessed with. It's quite catchy, but I'd imagine hearing it all day, every day, has to be tiring, so I understand why Snow is so frustrated. Has baby Neal started crawling yet? He's about that age now, isn't he? Maybe that will cheer her up, and she won't be bothered by my son constantly singing "Bare Necessities" at the top of his lungs._

 _I love the little details you tell me about him, about my daughter, it makes me feel closer to them. But don't think I haven't noticed you've been neglecting telling me about you. I want to feel closer to you, too, Regina. I love you. Tell me what you're up to. What song are you obsessed with, I wonder?_

 _Love,_

 _-Robin._

It's been two weeks, and they've been writing back and forth every single day. Regina spends her mornings searching for possible answers, and her afternoons writing to Robin, giving him as much as she can, telling him anecdotes she hears from Snow and Granny about his children. He's right, though, she's been very guarded, hasn't really told him much of what she's doing.

She and the Dragon had taken the concept of Zelena's time travel spell and tried to rework it, so that it would take them to the future instead of the past, but they hadn't been able to achieve much. The past is set, written, but the future is uncertain, and the time Robin is in is just one of millions of possible alternatives. So far, she hasn't found a way to reach him, and it eats at her, fuels that dark shadow that wraps around her at night and whispers, sweet and eerie in her ear, that she'll never get him back.

So yes, she's withheld details on her comings and goings, on her day-to-day, mainly because she doesn't want him to know that she's been failing at this rescue mission. But in doing so, she's neglected him without even realizing it, and it needs to stop. These letters are all they have right now, alienating him from what little glimpses he gets of her life won't help.

She misses him, too, smiles sadly when he tells her how it aches to be away from her, because it's exactly the way she feels, only he's put it into words much better than she can. He'd sent another letter earlier, one that told her all about his day, where he'd gone, what he'd seen, told her about the grouchy postman that has now somehow become a pal of his, told her of Mrs. Capparelli teaching him to cook...

* * *

 _Dear Robin,_

 _No songs to obsess over at the moment. But I do have a lullaby stuck in my head after singing it to your daughter over the phone, does that count?_

 _I'm sorry I haven't spoken much about myself. Truth be told, I've been afraid._

 _We tried tinkering with Zelena's time traveling spell so that it would allow me to travel to your time, but there are so many alternate futures, it's impossible to calibrate the spell to the one where you are. I've hit dead end after dead end, and it's starting to wear on me. And I know you have faith in me, Robin, I do, and that we have to work this out at some point, but I'm frustrated. I want you home._

 _My days are not as eventful as you'd think, mostly I just let out my exasperation by throwing fireballs at the wall, and then repair said wall before Henry comes home._

 _I enrolled him in his old school here, since we don't know when we'll return to Storybrooke, and he seems happy to be back with his friends, though I know he misses Violet and the family. I offered to take him back, but he refuses to leave. I guess I should've expected that._

 _I've been reading up on Mongolian barbecue recipes at night. I might try and make a dish or two for Henry, instead of letting him keep eating at that restaurant. If it's homemade, it has to be healthier, right? I'll let you know how that goes._

 _I miss you, too. More than you know._

 _-Regina._

She folds the new letter in half and tucks it into the book. They've forgone the envelope altogether by now, too eager to reach each other to bother with proper packaging. It's not like it needs it, anyway.

It's gone within the hour, and by then, Regina has already called up Snow and asked her to take a picture of Roland and the baby, then grabbed Henry's old camera and snapped a shot with her son beside her.

The walk back from the nearby drugstore is charged with anticipation. She hopes (and _ugh_ , how she hates that word) that it won't make things worse, that the pictures she's just had printed for him serve to soothe and not to aggravate his sadness.

They rest inside a crisp white envelope, one glossy sheet of paper depicting Roland's dimpled smile —dimmed by recent events, but present all the same— and the baby's adorable pink cheeks. The other shows Henry's excited thumbs up, and Regina's own hesitant grin. There should be more, there should be dozens of pictures, and her letter should contain answers instead of empty reassurances, but this is the best she can do for now.

 _Robin,_

 _I've enclosed a little surprise, I hope it helps._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

His response reaches her only minutes later, and she laughs out in relief.

 _I could not love you any more than I do right now._

 _Thank you so much. You've made me so happy._

 _I'll write a proper response to your letter in a moment, I just need a few minutes to look at you all._

 _-Robin._

* * *

She gets better at sharing details as the days pass. Becomes familiar with the way he writes to her, learns the tone of his letters. She hears his voice speaking the words on the page every single time she reads them, misses him more than she ever thought possible. And still, after endless days of research and experiments, she has nothing to show for it.

New York starts to heat up with the beginnings of summer sometime around mid-June, and that's precisely when the air conditioning in the apartment decides to stop working. She finds a quick fix for it, and then the thermostat breaks, and they're forced to wear sweaters and gloves inside the apartment to keep warm at night. On her next letter, she mentions it to him, not because it's important, really, but it's been really annoying, and she needs to unload.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _The AC system in the apartment broke, so it was horribly warm in here. We fixed it, and now it's too cold because the thermostat doesn't want to work properly. I feel like Goldilocks. It's practically pool weather outside and we had to sleep with gloves last night because it was freezing in here._

 _I finally got around to trying some of those Mongolian barbecue recipes I told you about the other day. Henry says he loved them, but I think he was just being polite. I'll have to let him indulge in takeout on weekends until I've mastered this. It's surprisingly complicated._

 _Ruby is sending a new batch of pictures today, I'll have some printed for you and send them along with my next letter._

 _We've hit another dead end with the new spell. The Dragon says there's some other force blocking what we do, and we need to unlock it before we can get our magic to work. Problem is, I don't exactly know what that force is made of or what kind of magic it is. But I will find out, I promise._

 _Did you try making Mrs. Capparelli's lasagna again? Please tell me you didn't burn anything this time._

 _I miss you._

 _Love,_

 _-Regina._

His reply arrives less than an hour later, his words making her long for him in more ways than one.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _The lasagna actually turned out great this time around, but still not as good as yours._

 _I've told Mrs. Capparelli about you (without the magical details, of course. As far as she knows, we were separated by family issues and are trying to find our way back to each other). She's very interested in seeing how our story turns out. I think she felt sorry for me, because she asked me into her kitchen while she worked on some new treats, and then offered me some of her wares, free of charge. I'm convinced I can get her to share that biscotti recipe with me if she watches me pine for you long enough. Shall I send it along if I'm successful?_

 _She says we deserve a lifetime of happiness after all we've been through, and I think she's right._

 _I had to look up Goldilocks to know what you meant (how I wish Google had existed in our world, would've saved me hours stuck in dusty old libraries). Let me tell you right now, you are definitely not her._

 _I'll be honest, since you mentioned being cold, all I've wanted to do is warm you up. Hold you and kiss you until that gorgeous skin of yours flushes a bit. I want you, Regina, I miss your body and the way it sings for me when I touch you... I miss the feel of you, the taste, and I can't wait to have you back in my arms._

 _However, since I can't be there yet to ward off the cold like I want to, just press the manual reset button on the bottom right hand corner of the thermostat. It messes up often, but that should fix it._

 _Don't worry about the spell, you'll get it right, I know you will._

 _Thank you in advance for the pictures. I'm so excited to see my children. Is Roland's toothache gone or has it gotten worse?_

 _-Robin._

The pictures are printed and in her hands the next morning.

There are quite a few this time around. She's included one of John holding the baby, and one of Roland getting a piggy-back ride from Friar Tuck. There's also a few of both kids together, Roland smiling down at his baby sister as he waves a colorful toy just over her face, her big blue eyes caught in the object. There's another of Snow with little Neal and Roland, even one of Granny, holding baby Robin in her arms while Ruby stands next to her, flashing a smile and giving a thumbs up.

Regina has also included a couple of herself and Henry, one from their most recent walk in Central Park, and one from their trip to the top of the Empire State Building. The wind had been too strong, blowing her hair in her face every which way, which had definitely not made for a pretty photo, but Henry had insisted that Robin would enjoy it, that it would make him laugh, so she'd allowed it.

She's also included a picture Henry had taken of her, one where he'd caught her unawares as she stared absently at the water jets in a park fountain. She looks... pensive, but quite attractive, and figures it won't hurt to flirt back just a little bit. She holds on to that thought as she hurries home, ready to attach the images to the letter she spent way too long writing last night.

His comments on how much he wants her had made heat flash through her, had made the memories of his passionate kisses and hungry eyes flare vividly in her mind as she read. She'd tried to respond in kind, but Regina is not one for words, at least not when it comes to expressing her feelings and desires, and every time she'd written something even remotely suggestive in her letter, she'd ended up crumpling the paper in her hands and starting anew.

She yearns for him. Yearns for the soft caress of his skin against hers, the scent of forest on her nose first thing in the morning. Misses his lips landing kisses on her own, his tongue trailing, swirling across her nipples as he'd claim her as his, her nails digging into his back and... god, this really is torture.

Regina folds her letter in half and tucks the pictures inside. The book lies still on the desk, and she trails a hand slowly over the cover, sighing as she opens it and deposits the letter. Their own little mailbox, she thinks fondly, her mind going over the words she's written for him.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _Should I be worried about you leaving me for Mrs. Capparelli, now? Does Mr. Capparelli know about you two? I'd love to give the biscotti a try, though, so yes, send the recipe my way if you acquire it._

 _I'm glad the lasagna turned out okay. But I have to admit, I like hearing you still prefer mine._

 _Henry made me breakfast today. Waffles. Not something I indulge in often, but he looked so proud, I couldn't say no. Plus, there were strawberries on top, can't ever refuse those._

 _Roland is fine, toothache is completely gone after his visit to the dentist, no need to worry._

 _Ruby tells me your daughter is quite taken with Little John lately, and it seems his lullabies are the only things that calm her down when she's fussy, which I find hilarious considering how terrible John's singing is. She's a gorgeous child, Robin, and she's doing quite well, though I think she misses her daddy._

 _I tried out a new spell today, used all light magic I could muster to try and push through that strange force blocking me from you, but nothing happened in the end, even though it left me exhausted. But I won't stop trying, I promise. I'll figure it out._

 _If what you intended with those very cheeky words was to make me blush, well... mission accomplished, thief. The thermostat trick worked, though, so thank you._

 _I miss you, too, Robin. I wish I knew how to fix this and bring you back to us already._

 _I can't wait for this nightmare to be over._

 _Love,_

 _-Regina._

The letter is gone minutes later, and Regina sets about making lunch for her son. It's Saturday, they usually go out to eat on Saturdays, it's part of the routine they've built while living here, but she needs _this_ right now. Needs the bustling about and the clanking of pots and pans, needs the quick, absent-minded rhythm of chopping up ingredients and putting a meal together.

Needs to distract herself from the pain in her heart as it cries out for something, _anything_ , that will help her get Robin back.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Sorry for the slow update, guys! Got caught up with some Madam President prompts, as you may have noticed, but I'm back to this story now, hopefully you'll get quicker updates after this._**

 ** _Hope you enjoy the new chapter! Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to review =)_**

* * *

There are tears in his eyes. Big, fat, salty drops that roll down his cheeks as he stares at the smiling face of his son, the sleeping form of his precious daughter.

Robin trails one finger down the shiny paper, missing his family terribly. It's so tempting to just go out and look for them, to get a car and drive to Storybrooke and see them, but Regina's warning rings clear in his head whenever such thoughts occur. She's right. If he were to show up in their lives, after they've gone a year thinking him dead, things might unravel, especially with this portal of sorts open to the past, where Regina is so adamantly trying to rescue him.

So he doesn't go, tries to live with the pain that they're out there without him, and focuses on what he has, on the two pictures she has sent that have him near to weeping with joy and sorrow both at the same time.

She looks sad in her photo, the light in her eyes dimmed despite the serene smile on her lips, and oh, how he yearns to be there, to kiss away that sadness and shower her with all the love she deserves. He's thankful that Henry is there for her, smiles as he looks at the boy's reassuring grin and thumbs up in the picture. He's a good boy, growing into a brave, kind young man, and Robin feels pride swell in his chest as he remembers his time spent with Henry, all the talks they had, the relationship they've built.

He's a son to him now, always will be.

* * *

A few days later, Regina tells him the thermostat is broken. It's not a big deal, not really, though he can tell it irritates her. And then she mentions how cold it is inside the apartment, and his mind is flooded with images of her tucked up against him, snug and warm from his own body heat, and his pulse quickens.

It's been weeks since their last time together. Weeks plagued with misadventures and worries, with sadness and regrets of bad deeds long done. He misses her, misses her touch, her smell, the little whimpers she lets out when he touches her just where she wants him.

Regina is an amazing lover, and the enjoyment he gets out of exploring her body, of learning what makes her writhe and moan out loud... it's the best feeling in the world.

He tells her so in his next letter. Responds to her banter and answers her questions, too, sure, but also describes what he really wants to do to warm her up... and then gives her the tip of the reset button on the thermostat, so that she can do something more effective until he can make good on his promises.

When her response arrives, Robin grins. He's made her blush, and the memory of that slight pink tint to her cheeks is bittersweet, makes him miss her more, but also soothes him. He likes knowing he can do that to her, that she still wants him as much as he wants her.

In his next letter, he goes for something a bit bolder, puts into words a little more of his desire for her, hoping she will respond in kind.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _Mrs. Caparelli is very aware that I'm in love with someone else, no need to worry. As I said, she's quite taken with our story and wishes we find our way back to one another soon._

 _I'm relieved to know Roland is feeling better, but quite worried about my poor daughter. Will she be stuck with John's horrible voice until I get back? You still sing to her on the phone, don't you? Please tell me you'll keep doing that, I do not want my child to grow up not knowing the dulcet tones of proper singing._

 _Waffles sound like a good idea. Might have those myself tomorrow. At the moment, though, I'm about to enjoy the last of my lasagna. Maybe once I perfect it I can make it for you, be the one to pamper you with delicious food for a change._

 _In my defense, it was never my intention to make you blush with my message, but I have to admit, I'm very glad I did._

 _I meant every word I said. You've no idea how much I miss your lips, your hair, your breasts..._

 _Do you remember our first time? In the vault? I relive it in my mind every night, as I do all the times after (particularly that one in Camelot. It was quite wonderful, was it not?). It's like I can almost feel you against me, which only makes your absence that much more painful when I wake up, but I can't help it. My mind is always drifting back to you, same as my heart._

 _Gods, I miss the taste of you, the sweet velvet of your skin. I wish I could see you right now, see the goosebumps rise in your arms as I touch you, hear that little gasp you let out when I kiss your neck…_

 _I reach for you sometimes, when I'm in bed at night and forget you're not with me. It's become instinctive at this point, I think. I miss you. This reality where I must sleep without you in my arms is quite dire._

 _Have I made you blush again?_

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

He places the letter inside the book, then grabs his plate of lasagna and eats as he stares at the photos she's sent. He misses his friends, his family, and the sight of them, even on paper, has the heavy burden in his soul lightening, makes his heart ache just a little less.

There's a picture of Regina in the bunch, one where she's by herself, looking out at a fountain. The setting sun hits her hair just so, gives it a reddish hue as the wind has a couple locks hitting her face at odd angles.

Stunning.

During their topsy turvy time in the Enchanted Forest, he'd wanted her from the second he'd laid eyes on her. Even when they'd lost their memories of that year, and found themselves as strangers in Storybrooke, his body had reacted to her, desired her the moment she caught his arrow in her hand.

When he'd believed his wife had returned, and he'd thought Regina an impossibility, that desire had flared, had mixed its spice and fire into the love he'd already felt for her, and it had driven him to her vault, to that night of forbidden passion that is now stored as one of his favorite memories.

He has seen her naked plenty of times (not enough, he thinks, never enough). Has felt the delicious burn of the things she whispers hotly in his ear, has watched her writhe beneath him, bare and needy, has heard her beg for his touch, his kisses, for his cock...

But right now, in this one moment, as he looks at the beautiful, but quite demure picture of Regina, Robin is sure he has never wanted her more.

Her answering letter is as surprising as it is sexy. She doesn't say much, which is a shame, really, but there's enough there, enough for him tell he's gotten her attention.

 _Okay, thief,_

 _Now you're just doing this on purpose._

 _No blushing this time, but suddenly I wished the thermostat was broken again. A bit of cold air would do me good right about now._

 _I think about that night in the vault a lot, too. I'm quite fond of the following morning, as well. Do you still count that as the first time? Since we didn't leave the room?_

 _There were quite a few memorable instances in Camelot, so you're going to have to be more specific. Feel free to be as detailed as you want... so I can remember it properly, of course._

 _I miss you._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

His answer takes him a while to write, because he's toeing that line between what he should or shouldn't say. He's not used to describing things like this, and he doesn't really know how Regina will take it. But she asked, so he tries his best to answer.

 _On purpose? Why, I've no idea what you're talking about, milady._

 _However I will say that I stand by my assessment. We didn't leave the vault until well into the morning, so it all still just counts as the first time. Or the first four times for you, if I remember correctly? I'm still quite proud of that._

 _You are absolutely right, there were plenty of memorable occurrences in Camelot, but the one I'm referring to, the one I keep wanting to repeat, is the one from that night after our moonlit walk around the castle, do you remember? It started in the hallway, because I couldn't resist, couldn't wait long enough to get back to our rooms, so I pressed you against the wall and I kissed you. You were worried someone would interrupt us, but I could also see how much that thrilled you, knowing anyone could walk in at any second and catch me ravishing you._

 _Do you remember now? Maybe I should elaborate a bit more, just to make sure._

 _That red dress drove me mad, distracted me every single time I saw it, and that night was no different. Do you remember, Regina? How desperate I was, how much I just wanted to touch you, take you right there against that stone wall? It's a good thing you had the sense to transport us to your chambers with your magic, else we would've woken the entire castle._

 _I'm getting a bit carried away now. I should probably stop._

 _Tell me about your day?_

 _Robin._

Her reply is inside the book not ten minutes later. It's not a letter, just one small piece of paper with two words written on it:

 _Don't stop._

It's all he needs. And those two words have him describing their past lovemaking as vividly as possible in his reply.

 _I made you come once before you moved us, remember that? How I rucked up your skirt and used my hand on you, right there in the hallway? How you whimpered when I touched you? You were so wet, so warm. The way you kissed me then, all tongue and hunger, like you couldn't get enough... do you have any idea what that did to me?_

 _I loved hearing you, Regina. Your little cries of pleasure when my fingers found that sweet spot inside you? Best sound in the world. And you kept trying to tell me we should go to your room, that we could be seen, but then you'd also tell me you were close, so close, to keep going. And gods, the way you moaned my name when you came... I'll never get tired of hearing that, not ever._

 _And then we were finally in your chambers, finally in that big four-poster bed, and you were naked and writhing on top of me, circling your hips in that maddening way you do. I could've come just from watching you like that, breathing out expletives and telling me how good it all felt._

 _I remember the sight of you, all flushed and sweaty and gorgeous above me. The sounds you made, how you cried out for more, told me to go harder, faster. How you dug your nails into my chest, and bit my lip when you kissed me... I had missed you so much. Miss you still. Nothing feels as good as being inside you, as watching you come for me. I want that again. I want you. So much._

He rubs one out to the thought of her, to the memories he's just described for her, because he misses her, dammit. Misses the heat of her, misses her naked body and her hair, her mouth and the pleasured whispers it would give him. He misses the way she'd fall asleep, naked and warm in his arms, misses her touch, misses her kisses...

He misses everything.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Big chapter, guys! Things are a-happenin'! Enjoy =)_**

* * *

Regina is burning.

She hadn't been expecting Robin to be so bold in his letters, to describe everything with such passion, but the moment she'd begun to read the words, to let them etch the memory together for her, she'd wanted more. Wanted _him_.

But Robin, it seems, is frustratingly determined to remain a gentleman, and just when things had started heating up in his regaling, he'd stopped. He'd stumbled over something resembling an apology for his candor, and sent the letter along without finishing the tale.

Regina cannot bring herself to respond in kind, cannot put into words her own descriptions of what had happened that night in Camelot, but she does know that she needs to read the rest. So instead of telling him how good he'd felt, of telling him that he is right, she really had loved the thrill of possibly getting caught. How those soft little suckling kisses he'd peppered over her clavicle had made her tremble with need for him, how she'd loved the sounds he'd made when he felt how wet she was... instead of _all_ of that, she ends up scribbling a hurried _Don't stop_ in a tiny piece of paper and sending it back to him.

His response doesn't disappoint.

He talks of kissing her, of how aroused he was, talks of his fingers inside her and of making her come, and the memory replays itself in her head with his narrative. She remembers every single detail, made all the more erotic now that she has his words to depict the images in her mind.

She rereads that letter more times than she'd care to admit, allows herself to become entranced by the memory of his touch, the ghost of his lips on hers, and after a few minutes she starts rubbing her thighs together where she sits at the dining table, seeking some of the delicious friction that Robin himself can't give her right now.

And then there's a moment, when she's thinking of all their past debauchery, that Regina feels shy, feels that part of her that is still innocent and nervous come forth and startle at the words on the page. She's far from innocent, of course, but sex —fun, loving, emotionally healthy sex— isn't something she has a lot of experience in (Leopold wasn't much of a husband in that sense, thankfully, and her age-long tryst with Graham had its own twisted circumstances that she'd rather not revisit). Yet here she is, holding written proof of how much Robin has changed her in that regard, how much he has done to show her she can make love —and be made love to— in the best of ways.

She remembers her first time with him, that night in the vault. Remembers how hesitant she'd been at first, despite her desire flaring hotly inside her. It'd been hurried foreplay at best, desperate as they were for each other, but when Robin had finally entered her, filled her and rocked his body against hers, it had been slow. His gasps had been warm against her cheek, his lips plump and smeared in her lipstick. Sweat had clung to his skin, his hands gentle, but wonderful as they explored her body...

She's reading Robin's letter yet again when she hears Henry's keys turning the lock on the door.

Regina is up in two seconds, shoving the letter aside and letting it fall to the chair she's just vacated, her footsteps hurried and breathing labored as she hoists one of the grocery bags from his hands and places it on the table.

"You okay?" her son asks, unloading a couple of ripe tomatoes from the bag he's still holding.

"Yeah. Fine. Why?"

"You look kinda flushed," he comments with a shrug, then turns his attention back to the bag.

Her cheeks heat at that, which she imagines just makes her look redder, but she's turning her head before her son can notice, focusing a little too much on unpacking the broccoli and mushrooms inside the bag she'd been holding.

"Oh, hey, is that from Robin?" Henry asks as he bends to retrieve the letter from the chair.

Regina has never moved faster in her life.

She snatches the page swiftly away from him, crumpling the paper in the process, and gives him a shy smile as she tells him "I don't think you should read that."

Henry frowns, looks at her with confusion and curiosity in his eyes, and then something clicks, and the furrowing of his brow deepens as he groans.

"Gross," he grumbles, then walks away.

Regina avoids looking her son in the eye for the rest of the day.

* * *

The next week brings with it higher temperatures as the height of the season draws ever closer, and Regina finds herself missing the cool, drafty summer days of Storybrooke.

She can't go home, though, not yet. Not until she has Robin back.

But that rescue mission doesn't seem to be going very well. All she's done in the last few days is hit one dead end after another, and her frustration continues to grow.

The Dragon is supportive and understanding of her pain, and while Regina appreciates his intentions, his calm words of comfort only make her want to strangle him.

It is Henry who offers a remedy to her anger, when he suggests they take a walk through Central Park one afternoon. Regina agrees immediately, thinking of nothing better to calm her exasperated nerves, than taking her son on a stroll around the vast green oasis in this concrete jungle.

She's come to enjoy the city after nearly a month here, but the tall buildings blocking her view everywhere she looks have her feeling suffocated, trapped, which doesn't help her weakly stifled need to torch everything in her path until she finds a solution to this mess.

Still, the idea of being in the park with Henry helps her find her balance, has her regaining her composure just as her patience starts to wear thin, and for the first time in days, Regina smiles.

She's about to agree to his request, when she sees that spark in his eye, the one that tells her there's an ulterior motive to all this.

"What is it?" she asks, and he shakes his head, denies he's hiding something, but Regina raised him, knows his mannerisms better than she lets on, and right now, she can tell he's lying.

"Henry," she shoots in a warning tone, and holds his gaze long enough to make him cave with a sigh.

"I can't ever get anything past you, can I?" he asks with a fond little smile. Regina shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Out with it, mister, why do you want to go to the park so badly?"

Her son hesitates again, but finally gives in, grabbing his backpack and pulling out that wretched black chalice from it.

"I asked the Dragon if we could use this to bring Robin back, but he said we can't, so there's no point in keeping it anymore," he tells her. "I want to bury it somewhere in the park. So that no one can ever find it."

Oh.

 _Oh._

"Henry, honey, wouldn't it be best if we just kept it in my vault with every other artif—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice firm, determined. "We need to keep this away from Storybrooke, and away from grandpa. Who knows what he could do if he got his hands on it. He won't try to take it while you're here, and the Dragon said this place will go back to having no magic when we leave, right? So if we hide it here, the Dark One won't be able to track it when we go home."

Regina hears herself sigh, her eyes drifting from Henry's face to the chalice in his hand.

He's right.

"You're right," she admits, nodding. "Okay, let's do it."

Henry smiles.

"Thanks, mom," he says, then deposits the thing back in his backpack, hoisting the straps over his shoulders and hooking his thumbs around them on each side as he looks at her, waiting.

It's not the leisurely activity she'd been expecting it to be, but Regina finds that having a new purpose, a pressing one, somehow works just the same. She's thankful for the respite, for having something different to focus on, something she can actually achieve.

Save for the softball fields, the park isn't exactly crowded. School isn't out until next week, and Regina assumes most people have probably opted to stay indoors and avoid the stuffy summer air just a little longer, before little league and other outdoor activities take over their time.

The sun is just starting to depart when they arrive, the dull yellow rays still just bright enough to light up the greenery. Regina strays down a hill with Henry just a little ways off Belvedere Castle.

It's more of a nature hike than the relaxing walk she would've preferred, but her son is nothing if not thorough when it comes to magical artifacts, and he's adamant about finding a spot no one would ever think to dig through.

They find it after they've walked a little bit further into a patch of wooded area, the distant sound of children laughing echoing in the empty space around them. They've had to remain inconspicuous, so aside from Regina's gardening mattock, hidden away in Henry's backpack, they haven't brought much in the way of digging instruments, meaning the execution of their plan will be a little sloppy, but still effective.

"I think here's a good spot, I can mark this tree with my pocket knife so that we know where to look if we ever need to," Henry says as he sets his backpack at her feet, places his palm against the giant oak beside which he's standing. Regina nods from where she's rummaging through the items he's brought, handing him the mattock and waiting for him to get to work.

The grass is green, strong, and a little damp from the humidity, and the summery smell of it surrounds them, joins with that of wet dirt as Henry digs and digs, until there's a hole on the earth just deep enough, just large enough, to shove that stupid chalice inside and never see it again.

Now all they have to do is throw it in there, pack some earth back on top, and it'll be done.

Easy.

 _Too_ easy.

She should've known the chalice would fight back.

It starts with a buzzing that cuts through the air when her son takes his backpack in hand. A strange hum that interrupts the otherwise quiet afternoon, drowning out every other sound as it gets louder and louder, until all they can hear is the whirring and sputtering.

"What the hell is that?" Regina wonders out loud, and then Henry is shaking, trembling as he throws the backpack back on the ground, the blackened cup tumbling out of it.

And then it turns out it's not Henry who's shaking. It's the chalice, clanking loudly as it skitters away from their reach, and suddenly there are vicious, strange tendrils of black smoke protruding from the depths of the artifact, scurrying over the floor, as if searching for something...

"Henry, run!" she yells, extending her palms and thrusting as much of her power as she can towards the source of the magic, but the bright white light merely bounces off the metallic edge of the chalice and hits her just below the stomach, throwing her against a nearby tree, her back slamming harshly against the trunk.

"Mom!" she hears her son yell, but doesn't see him, spots clouding her vision as she tries to make sense of her surroundings.

The dark, smoky tendrils are there again, reaching out towards her, and then Henry is in front of her, crouching down and raising a gentle hand to her face.

"Mom. Mom! Are you okay?!" he asks urgently, hovering and breathing shallowly against her. He's scared, she can feel it in the slight tremble of his hand, as it gingerly touches the small bump she can feel forming on her head.

"Henry, get out of here. Go!" she pleads, trying to summon her magic again as the thick smoke from the chalice gets ever closer.

"I am not leaving you!"

"Yes, you are, now go!" Regina barks back, then throws another blast of white light at the chalice.

Wrong move.

It's like her magic only makes it angrier, strengthens it, and now the thick smoke looks solid, has little blue sparks of lightning flying about as it moves faster and faster, and then it detours, looping around Henry's foot instead of hers, and dragging her son away from her.

"Henry, no!" she's dragging herself towards him and holding on to his hand as firmly as she can. But the pull of the magic is too strong, has Henry's fingers slipping from her grasp as she tries to keep him there.

And then he's gone.

The smoke wraps around her son, envelops him to the point where he is no longer visible. There's a growling of sorts, a strange rumbling coming from the magic as it exudes its power, but Regina can still hear her son's screams. Feels her heart shatter with every scared shout of _Mom! Mom help me! Please!_ And no matter how many times she tries, or how strong her light magic is, it does nothing to stop it.

The chalice begins to hover above the ground as the smoke becomes thicker, sends more sparks flying, and Regina tries to grab it, to smash it with her foot, and only ends up back on the floor, feels a gash rip across her cheek when she hits a fallen tree branch.

"Henry!" she exclaims desperately.

"Mom! Make it stop!" he shouts back. He's in pain, terrible pain, and tears fall down Regina's face as she tries and tries and tries to stop it. She throws fireballs at the chalice, and for a moment it falters in its actions, has the smoke thinning just slightly, and she can see her son, can see a bright yellowy glow over his chest, and it hits her.

The chalice is breaking her protection spell over Henry's heart. And the closer it gets, the stronger it becomes.

"Mom, what's happening?! Where are you?! I can't-" he breaks off on a strangled whimper, "I can't breathe!" there's a labored gasp for air, and then another desperate cry of "Mom!"

She understands then, that light magic won't help. The thing _feeds_ on it, and her son has the heart of the truest believer, easily the purest source of light magic in this entire land.

Henry is coughing now, and the yellow light that was her spell over his heart is losing its shine, becomes duller and duller by the second. She knows the chalice won't stop until it's consumed Henry's light, and all she can do is cry and yell for her son.

During the torturous seconds of watching his agony, she keeps thinking that she could fix this. If she still had dark magic, the purely dark magic she used to be able to conjure, maybe she could stop it, maybe she could battle against it long enough to give Henry a chance to escape.

But she is not that person anymore, and her fireballs are all she has left of her darkness, she'd made sure of that when she'd taken the queen's heart and crushed it, eliminated that part of herself. Hadn't she?

That stupid pirate's words come to her then.

 _"How's this for irony? You've done too much good!"_

Gold's voice also speaks in her head. _"You've gone soft,"_ it says, and then she thinks of Cruella, of Ursula, Zelena, all telling her she no longer has what it takes to be a villain, to wield that much power.

And then Henry cuts through it all with an ear-piercing scream.

"Henry!" she yells, "Henry I'm trying! I'm trying but it's fighting! It feeds on light magic!"

"Use-" he chokes as the magic continues to squeeze the light out of him, "use dark!"

"I can't! I'm not capable of that anymore!"

"Yes you are! You're—" he breaks off on a whimper, clutching at his chest with his hand as he tries not to suffocate in the magic's grasp.

"You're the queen!" he wheezes, "Please, mom!"

She's desperate, panic settling in her chest as she watches the magic drown out her son's agonized shouting. And then the chalice floats ever higher above them, thriving on the magic it continues to draw from Henry. It almost feels like it's _laughing_ at her.

Anger starts to bubble up inside her, flushing her very skin with the familiar burn of power, of the need to destroy and maim and kill. She'd thought it gone when she crushed the queen's heart, but she feels it now as she stares at the chalice, feels that rage, the raw impulse to cause pain and suffering.

The chalice is dark, and it is dangerous, but she is darker, she is lethal, and she. Will. Win.

Regina summons her magic again, and this time it's purple, the familiar fumes of revenge and evil feeding her fire as she thrusts the strongest wave of power she can muster at the chalice.

This time, her efforts actually pay off.

The cup withers, tips over as it lets out a shrill, scratchy sound, one Regina can only compare to nails on a chalkboard.

She smiles smugly.

"Now," she instructs, her voice deep and menacing. "Get. Away. From my son."

The magic in the cup protests, tries to hold on to Henry, who is still choking and sputtering as he tries to wrestle away from his prison, and so Regina focuses all her strength on producing another wave of magic.

She ignores the pain caused in her ears by the sound still blasting from the cup. Draws from her every misfortune to build up on her anger, feeling the power, basking in it as the wave expands and expands. And then she releases it.

It happens fast. Faster than she has time to absorb, but her magic hits its target, turning a nearby tree into dust, setting another on fire with the force of it, and Regina ends up thrown into the air by the blast, hits the trunk of a willow a good four feet away.

Suddenly the chalice is folding into itself, shriveling up as its horrible scream becomes louder, and then, Regina feels relief flood her as the black mass around her son begins to dissipate, turning back into swirls and tendrils of magic that are sucked into the now deformed cup.

Henry's gasp breaks through the noise less than a minute later, and then there is no noise anymore. The magic is gone, the chalice left tumbling on the ground as her son runs in her direction and launches himself into her arms.

Regina is taken aback by the sudden gesture, shaken out of her warrior mode, but then he's there, her precious boy, all smiles and relief as he clutches her around the shoulders and breathes out a "Mom!" against her ear, grounding her in the moment, in _him_.

Her evil impulses are still there, still bristling under her skin, but they're somehow duller, less burdensome. She's... calm. In control. Devoid of the constant worry and dread that she's been carrying ever since she decided to be a hero.

It's not the blissful high she'd get from it when she was the queen, more like a relief after releasing all this pent-up tension inside her, but shame still slithers through her at the notion that using dark magic has made her feel good.

People have started appearing nearby, curious as to the source of the loud BOOM from earlier. She can hear them now, approaching and gasping at the sight. They don't believe in magic, she realizes, so they've probably heard the tree explode, and maybe her screams, Henry's, but not the shrill screech of the chalice, or the wild gusts of wind and the strange, distant growling from the magic as it had wrapped around Henry. To them, it's just a bizarre accident, with none of the far more evil events she's just witnessed.

"Mom, you saved me," Henry says as he pulls back to look at her. She's magically restored the other tree, the one she'd accidentally set on fire, and they're hidden enough behind the willow that no one will see them yet, so she takes a moment, looks at her son with a watery smile.

"With dark magic," she admits sadly.

"But you used it for good," he replies, a pride she's undeserving of shining bright in his eyes. "You did it for me. You really acted out of love this time."

She frowns at that.

"You mean you're not... you're not disappointed in me for using it?"

And to her complete and utter astonishment, Henry smiles.

"You're not light _or_ dark, mom, you're both. And you're a hero for it. That thing would've killed me if you hadn't used those powers."

It would have _killed_ him. The words are knives cutting into her soul. Hot tears sting her eyes, and Regina lets them fall freely, the fear of losing her son playing with her emotions now that the adrenaline of the moment seems to be dying down.

"I'm sorry I ever made you think you should repel your darkness," Henry says then. "It was stupid of me."

"No. This is not your fault," she says vehemently. "I wanted it out of me. I basically tore my own dark heart out and crushed it so I wouldn't have to deal with it. I should have known I can't get rid of it that easily."

"Good," he says, and at her wide-eyed look, he explains, "I don't want you to be Snow White, that's not you. _This_ is you. Someone who loves me, who'll do anything to save me and everyone else if they're in danger."

"But Henry-" she tries, but he's still talking.

"I told you once, you're not a villain, you're my mom. That doesn't mean you have to be a saint, it just means you have to be yourself. The queen is part of that. Maybe not the best part, but it's helped you become who you are now, and I love who you are now, mom."

Something in the way he says it, the slight tremble around the words, maybe, or the boyish, somewhat high-pitched tone of his voice that isn't usually there, now that he's older. She doesn't know exactly what it is, but _something_ there, makes everything click.

All this time she'd wanted to find her place in the world, had suppressed her every dark impulse and tried so hard to be a hero like the ones around her so she could fit in, so she could be accepted. She'd never realized she could be her own brand of hero, that she could embrace both sides of herself and do great things. _Good_ things.

She accepts it then, welcomes her dark past and the lessons it taught her, holds on to the angry, desperate piece of her that once caused so much misery to others. She may not be too thrilled about that part of her life, but she wouldn't be here without it.

She's not that person anymore, but it's shaped her, turned her into who she is today, into the mother Henry loves, into the woman Robin sacrificed himself for, the woman who makes apple turnovers for Roland and has drinks with Emma, the woman who learned to see past her old grudges and made friends of her two biggest enemies.

She's become someone who can get things done, someone who can protect an entire town and save people, someone who can cook and laugh and love, and who can also fight fire with fire if it means saving someone's life. Regina realizes then, that it's because of her darkness that she's become someone she's... actually quite proud of.

Henry is right. She is not light, or dark. She is both.

And with the startling clarity provided by this new revelation, Regina decides she wouldn't have it any other way.

She smiles, and something inside her unlocks. Some strange puzzle piece of her soul that hadn't yet been discovered. She feels complete now. Feels whole. And the sensation is so foreign to her that she's overwhelmed by it, more tears leaking from her eyes before she has a chance to stop them. Henry just looks at her proudly, wipes them away with his thumb as he stands and helps pull her up, her back resting against the willow.

Regina takes a deep breath, and a wave of magic erupts from her without her meaning to. It sweeps their surroundings and extends beyond and beyond, like a curse has just been broken, and that's... strange. There's no curse on them. Is there?

"Henry, we need to go see the Dragon right now and tell him what happened," she decides.

"What do we do with the cup?" he asks, staring at the crumpled up mass of blackened iron on the floor, covered in splinters and leaves.

"I don't think it works anymore, but I'll hide it in my vault just in case, okay? Until I know how to get rid of it completely."

"What if it still works and grandpa steals it?"

"I'd never let that happen. I'm stronger now, I can handle it."

"Are you sure?" he asks, sounding a little nervous, and Regina jumps at the chance to be a mother, to offer her son as much comfort as she can.

"I'm sure. You have nothing to worry about," she promises, her hand cupping his cheek before she leans in to land a kiss on his forehead.

They emerge from their secluded spot to a group of onlookers arriving at the scene. Regina is limping, her knee sore and scratched, and she notices her ears are bleeding a bit, remembers the pain she'd felt in them earlier, from the sound of protest the chalice had made as she battled it.

Henry is a solid weight against her, though, has his arm wrapped around her waist and is helping her walk as best he can, only stops to address some of the people giving them concerned looks.

"We got startled by that weird exploding noise and fell down a hill during our walk, but we're okay," he reassures an older couple offering to help.

"Are you sure?" a middle-aged man asks as he takes his phone out, ready to call 911, Regina assumes.

"We're fine," she says in a clipped tone, exhaustion and pain invading her now that there's nothing else to worry about.

"We live right across the street, I'll just get her home so she can lie down," Henry tells the man, waving away his concern, then keeps walking her out of the park.

* * *

The Dragon is at their door in less than ten minutes after they call him, and Henry shows him in while Regina finishes making herself presentable. Her thin gray shirt is covered in dirt. And she notices upon removing it that there's a small rip on the back, right where she'd hit the willow. She'd been wearing this very same shirt when Robin first told her he was in love with her, back when 'Marian' was frozen and he couldn't wake her, and the sight of it, wrinkled and dirty and damaged, affects her more than it should.

Standing in her underwear in front of the mirror, Regina checks her face and body for injuries. Her ears no longer hurt, but the blood is still there, so she cleans that first. Then the cut on her cheek, healing it with magic, much as she's done with the few scrapes on Henry's arm and knees.

Her hair is a mess, twigs and blades of grass stuck in her disarrayed tresses. What she really wants is a long shower, just a few moments of relaxation under the warm spray before she has to figure out what to do next, but the Dragon is here, and they have business to attend to. That shower will have to wait.

By the time she joins them in the living room, wearing loose-fitting pants and a blue shirt, Henry has made them all tea, and from what she hears of their conversation before she makes her presence known, the man has already been filled in about the events that transpired earlier.

"Ah, Regina," he says when she clears her throat and wobbles a bit around the kitchen, taking the seat opposite him when Henry insist that she please stay still before she passes out.

"So, I hear you've found your balance," the Dragon says with a smile.

"Something like that," she replies as she fiddles with the handle on the cup Henry's just placed before her.

"How do you feel?" he asks, and she gives him an answer she gave Robin months ago, meaning it even more this time.

"Stronger than ever."


	8. Chapter 8

**_Happy Sunday!_**

* * *

Robin is walking home from the grocery store when it happens.

His bag falls to the concrete floor, carrots and cauliflower tumbling out as some sort of energy wave whooshes by him, through him. The feeling is eerily familiar and yet completely shocking all the same.

He's felt that once before. When Regina had broken the curse, and returned their memories of the missing year. This time, however, there are no lost memories to recover, and he's left standing there on the sidewalk, with groceries scattered about and no change whatsoever to his mind or heart.

But it's magic, he'd felt it, something magical happened, and he wishes, hopes beyond anything he's ever hoped for, that the magic comes from Regina, that she's finally managed to break that barrier keeping them from each other.

Robin runs home, hoping for a letter and an explanation.

He finds nothing.

His arrival is met by the same old furniture, his clothes messily piled up on the chair near the TV, just where he'd left them this morning. There's absolutely nothing to show there's been a change, nothing signaling a consequence of the magic he'd felt earlier.

It makes no sense, there has to be something, anything, that was affected by the magic, something that can tell him whether he's closer now to actually holding Regina in his arms, to seeing his children again.

Desperation has him breaking out in cold sweat as he paces the tiny apartment, waiting.

He doesn't realize he's dozed off until he wakes up on the couch well over an hour later, pain shooting down his spine as his neck creaks from its strained position.

Robin sits up, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and twisting his upper body this way and that, to give his sore muscles a bit of a stretch.

Gods, he's exhausted.

His mind is slow to catch up to it, but upon rubbing at his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, he's able to look around and take in the sight before him. The corner of a page sticking out from the book has him flying to the desk, grabbing his new letter from Regina.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _Something strange happened today..._

He reads her tale, gasps as he takes in the details she gives him, worries for a second that Henry might not be okay (and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that's not the case, Regina wouldn't be writing to him if Henry had been hurt).

Robin devours the story, drinks in every word and marvels at the events Regina describes for him. The chalice, the dark magic trying to snuff out the light in Henry, to feed on the magic of his heart... it's terrifying, and he exhales his relief when he reaches the next lines and sees her reassurance that all is well. Henry is safe. She is safe, and they're both back at the apartment, unharmed.

The last few paragraphs draw his attention though.

 _It turns out having a dark side helped me rescue Henry, and somehow that... changed me. There was a moment where I felt so at peace, and I realize now it's because I accepted it. I accepted that I'm not all good or all evil, that I'm a little of both, and that that's a good thing._

 _Robin, today I finally saw myself the way you see me, and I think I'm ready to be that person now. I'm ready to be both. And when I embraced it, when I stopped letting my self-loathing dictate my actions, I saved my son. I won._

 _After that, there was this magical shockwave, like a curse had been broken. The Dragon says that's my magic's way of showing me I've broken the curse I've inflicted on myself all this time, and it's... wonderful. It feels wonderful._

 _Maybe this is how I can reach you. Maybe now that I can use both sides of my magic to their full potential, I can actually get rid of this barrier keeping us apart and bring you home._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

His hand flies over the paper as he pens his reply.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _You've no idea how glad I am that you are both safe. I wish I could've been there to help, though it sounds like you figured things out quickly enough._

 _I felt it, Regina. I felt the magic. I suppose it has to do with our souls being tethered to each other, doesn't it? Or maybe it doesn't, but either way, that shockwave you're describing? It hit here too. In my current time. This has to mean something, surely? Maybe the Dragon can help us figure that out._

 _I'll admit I was startled at first, and thought maybe you'd finally managed to get here, but as much as I long to hold you in my arms again, the result you've just relayed to me is far more rewarding._

 _I've told you always, that I'm not scared of you, that I know your heart, I know who you were, who you are, who you can be, and the person I see in all of that, the you I see in all of that, is the most beautiful, incredible woman, and I am so proud of you for seeing it, too._

 _You've got everything you need to be your own kind of hero, Regina, and I know that your darkness is part of that, I would never ask you to delete it, or change it. I have my own dark deeds embedded in my past, and I live with them, use them to become better, and that's exactly what you have done, and I love you for it. You've always said having this darkness inside you means you can't be happy, that you can't be loved. I hope now you can see that this isn't true. If anything it makes me love you even more. I love you for taking the risk, and for accepting yourself just as you are. I could not be more proud of you._

 _I'm pleased to see you've gained some faith in yourself. Keep believing Regina, I'm convinced that is exactly what will help us find each other again._

 _I can't wait to be back, to see my family, and to spend the rest of my life at your side._

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

Nighttime finds him with a plate of pasta and the TV on, watching a very skewed parody of his life. There are ridiculous musical numbers, and terrible jokes about chastity belts, but for once Robin is able to find the humor in all of it. He laughs at the fun bits, even finds himself nodding his head along with the rhythm of some of the songs, and at the end of the night, he's humming a rousing chorus of "We're men, we're men in tights, we roam around the forest looking for fights!" and chuckling at the ridiculous flair of it all.

Her answering letter arrives just as he's starting on breakfast the next day.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _We had lasagna last night. Henry abandoned his Mongolian barbecue and said he just really needed "a real Mom dish" to make him feel better about our ordeal. I can tell you right now, with absolute certainty, that I've never been as happy to chop up tomatoes and ladle sauce into a pan as I was in that moment._

 _Thank you for the beautiful words, and for loving me, for believing in me. Despite my having accepted who I am, I'm still not quite sure what I did to deserve you, but if my soul is to be tied to another, I'm grateful for the fact that it's yours._

 _I told the Dragon what you said. About feeling the magic? He's intrigued by it, but says he can't really find a sound explanation for it other than what you guessed. He did tell me you should keep an eye out, though, and let us know if it happens again. He also said that maybe now that I'm stronger, and since we now know that my magic can find you, we can try to come up with a different brand of spell that could take down that barrier keeping us apart._

 _I'll let you know how it goes._

 _Tell me what you're up to. It feels like it's been weeks since I last heard about your day. How are the cooking lessons with Mrs. Capparelli going? And how are you financially? I realized earlier that we've never talked about that, I don't even know how you're supporting yourself._

 _I miss you._

 _Regina._

He laughs at the last part, shakes his head fondly. He's oddly touched that she's worried about money, but she really needn't be. He's doing fine.

It does occur to him, though, that he hasn't actually told her how he's able to pay for things, so he sets pen to paper and explains.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I love when you're concerned about me, and I'd wager you were biting your lip or playing with your hair as you wrote that last bit in your letter, because it's what you do when you're anxious, and I find it quite endearing. You also get that tiny frown that I am always in charge of kissing away. I miss that._

 _Rest assured I'm quite comfortable. When we lived here before, I had some money stashed for emergencies. It was hidden away under the loose vent in Roland's room. When we went back to Storybrooke, it was all so sudden that I forgot to retrieve it. It's more than enough to afford me a decent life while I'm here, but I also do odd jobs for Mr. Capparelli down at the bakery every once in a while. I'm fine. Honestly. Don't worry so much._

His phone rings as he marks that period, and oddly enough, it's Mr. Capparelli who's calling him.

Robin answers, hears the older man explain that something is wrong with their oven, and could he please come by and fix it, because he can't do it alone. He doesn't hesitate, tells him he'll be right there, and hangs up the call to gather his things.

He leaves the letter like that, his pen resting on top of it as he grabs his wallet and ventures out into the city.

The repairs take a lot longer than he'd anticipated, though, and Robin ends up having lunch at the bakery, a break from their hard work, with special tiramisu provided by Mrs. Capparelli, who thanks him again and again for coming over. She assures him that she'll pay him for his help, as she always does, but Robin insists that this one is on him.

The hours after their meal blur together as the clock ticks above them, and they still can't get the darn oven to work. It's the gas valve, Mr. Capparelli tells him, and in an effort to keep the oven's original parts, he's refused to replace it, has been trying to get the old valve to work properly all day, but his attempts have no positive results, even with Robin's help (not that he can provide much, given his little knowledge of these strange contraptions, but he takes direction well, listens to the old man and does as he's told, helps with the heavy lifting).

"I think it may be time to get a new valve, dear," Mrs. Capparelli tells her husband sometime around four, when she comes in with biscotti and cold glasses of milk.

Robin is thankful for the reprieve, nibbles at his treat while the elder couple discuss the pros and cons of adding a new part to the old oven.

"All due respect, sir," he intervenes when Mr. Capparelli once again refuses to get the new valve, "we've tried everything. Might as well just get the new one and have this thing up and running before day's end."

The man sighs defeatedly, runs a hand through his graying hair, and huffs out his acquiescence.

Robin offers to go to the hardware store for him, insists he takes a few minutes to rest, even jokes that he use that time to say goodbye to the old valve, and heads out to get the replacement. Once he has it and is back at the bakery, it's easy enough to get everything back in place by copying what he saw Mr. Capparelli do, so he takes care of installing the new part all on his own, and the oven starts working again without issue once he's done. He's sweaty, and tired, but happy to see he's helped solve the problem.

He leaves with a smile on his face, satisfied by a job well done. And then an idea occurs to him.

He stops by the flower shop two blocks away from the apartment and buys a rose, an orange one to match the sunset now hanging over New York. He doesn't know if it'll work, but it did with the photos she sent him, so he figures why not try to send her something, too?

He misses their afternoons in the palace gardens, back in the Enchanted Forest, when he and his son would grab wildflowers and present them to her. A heartfelt attempt to ward off her sadness over a life without Henry.

Robin is glad Regina has her son back, of course, feels lucky he's gotten to know the boy, as well. But he misses spending that time with her. Misses those days that were all about getting to know her and tearing down the walls she'd so carefully constructed around her heart. He hadn't even remembered any of it when they'd finally kissed for the first time, but the familiarity was there, the echo of all those forgotten memories adding balance and feeling to every press of her lips against his. He misses that connection, misses everything that is Regina.

He tries to tell her that in the last paragraph of his letter, picking up where he left off.

 _Do you remember that day in the castle, when you and Roland were out in the grounds picking berries? It was the first day without rain in over a month, and he was so excited to spend an afternoon outside with you. That was the first time you allowed me to tag along, remember? It's one of my favorite memories of us._

 _I remember the sunset that day, and how beautiful you looked bathed in its light. You weren't wearing your usual royal attire, just your riding clothes and a braid and the wind wrapped around you, you even had leaves in your hair after riding... I think that's when I knew I'd be yours forever._

 _I was coming home from helping the Capparellis fix their oven, and I saw this rose at the flower shop on the way. I immediately thought of that day, so I'm sending it along in hopes that it reaches you, and that it makes you smile that elusive, beautiful smile I can never stop thinking about._

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

He places the rose inside the book, the stem marking the page in which he tucks the letter, soft petals adorning the top of the spine.

He decides on a sandwich for dinner, not really interested in cooking. He chooses peanut butter and jelly, because he remembers how much his sons love that strange combination. It's not exactly something Robin would love to eat all the time, but the nostalgia has the creamy concoction tasting much better than it had the first time he had it.

When he wakes the next morning, the flower is gone, along with the letter, and he smiles, happy to know that she got his present. Hoping she'll like it and reply soon.

It's a little after lunch time when he gets a call from Mr. Capparelli, telling him his oven is broken, and could he please come over and help him fix it?

"Again?" Robin asks.

"What do you mean, again, my boy? It just started failing this morning," the old man defends, and Robin frowns, but agrees to be there in a few minutes.

When he hangs up, he's still a little confused, but grabs his things and is at the bakery in under fifteen minutes, ready to help out.

Mrs. Capparelli keeps them well stocked on coffee and pastries while they dismantle the oven again. Robin is a bit more adept at it now, after having worked on it all day yesterday, and he feels a little proud of himself for learning to handle the appliance so fast.

"It's the valve," Mr. Capparelli tells him in his thick accent, and Robin balks at the words.

"But it's a new one! How can it be damaged already?"

"Actually, it's very old. This entire oven is very old, dear, these things happen," Mrs. Capparelli intervenes.

It's all eerily repetitive, the same debate, the same argument, the same defeated sigh from Mr. Capparelli when he finally agrees they need a new valve.

The valve he helped install yesterday isn't there. Instead, the old one is in place, damaged and rusty, just as it was before they removed it. And it's... odd, really.

He heads to the hardware store, just like yesterday. Buys a new valve, just like yesterday, and returns to the bakery to biscotti and coffee, _just like yesterday._

"Mrs. Capparelli, what is today's date?" he asks the older woman, who chuckles and makes some joke or other about her being the one whose memory should be failing, not his, then informs him, _It's the sixth, dear_.

The words have him frowning, the hint of a chill running down his spine at the impending realization that hits him then.

It's not _like_ yesterday. It _is_ yesterday.

"Mrs. Capparelli, what did we do yesterday?" he needs to be sure, needs to know if they notice the repetition, too, or if it's just him. Because if it's just him, it might mean that Regina...

No. He won't allow himself to dream of that until he's figured this out.

"I taught you how to make coffee cake, don't you remember? Not that you listened, really. You were all caught up in that girl of yours."

He laughs good-naturedly, remembers how distracted he'd been during the lesson, thinking of Regina's last letter, of how proud he'd been of her for embracing who she is...

On the way home, he passes the flower shop, but the rose is not there. In fact, the shop doesn't seem to have any roses, which is strange. They do have an abundance of lillies, though, so he purchases the first one that catches his eye, a white one with red streaks down the center of each petal. He may not know what this strange repetition means, but he does know that his flower reached her, so he will send another, and another, fill the apartment with reasons to make her smile. Because he can.

He writes to her when he gets home. Pops a plate of leftover ravioli in the microwave and sits at the small dining table with pen and paper at the ready.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _Please, do not be alarmed, I assure you I'm perfectly fine and nothing ominous or terrible has happened, but I noticed the oddest thing today. It seems my day has... repeated itself somehow. All events from yesterday happened today, too, and when I started seeing the coincidences, I looked for the date and saw that it was the same. It's as if the calendar had reset itself for this particular day._

 _I seem to be the only one who has felt it. I spent some time with the Capparellis today (fixing the oven... again, same as yesterday), and they seem oblivious to it. In fact, everyone around me seems to simply be living their lives without having noticed anything different. It's like they don't know the day was supposed to change. Like they hadn't lived yesterday at all and today was their first recollection of it._

 _The only possible explanation I have is that this may have something to do with your powers. Have you been trying any of those new spells you mentioned? I could feel your magic when you broke that wall between good and evil in your heart, so maybe what's happening now is that I can feel it as you work on reaching me?_

 _Like I said, I'm fine, and nothing bad's happened, I'm just trying to make sense of this new development._

 _Above all, I want you to be safe, so please, don't try anything that could hurt you._

 _I miss you,_

 _Robin._

Her answer doesn't come until the next day, when he wakes up to the sound of birds chirping outside and dawn barely breaking over the horizon, blocked by skyscrapers and the tall trees from the park.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I haven't tried anything new yet, most of these spells require a human sacrifice, and as much as I've embraced my darkness, I can't go that far. I guess this is why I'm both good and evil now, isn't it? So that I know when to stop?_

 _Time hasn't changed for me. I can't really explain what's happening over there, it really is odd, but I'm inclined to think this might all just be residual magic from my run-in with that cursed cup. I'm sure everything will be fine in the morning, once the remaining magic has dissipated._

 _I know you said that you're safe, and that nothing bad has happened, and I believe you, but I worry regardless. Please be careful._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

 _P.S.: Thank you for the flowers, and for your previous letter. I do remember that day in the Enchanted Forest. I also remember you stole our berries and ate half of them before we got back to the castle. I was so very annoyed, but even then, I think I knew, too._

He smiles at her last remark, but it's what she's said at the beginning of the letter that stays with him as he goes about preparing his breakfast.

She hasn't done any magic. Nothing that would create this time loop effect. He thinks she may be right, this could just be leftover magic from her encounter with that chalice. Magic is unpredictable, after all, and there's not much anyone knows about its behavior in this world.

But when Mr. Capparelli calls him at lunch again to tell him about his broken oven, and the newspaper he buys on the way tells him it's Tuesday _again_ , Robin remembers Regina's words, and he finally understands.

 _'Time hasn't changed for me'_ she'd said.

And yet time seems to have _stopped_ for him.

This can only mean one thing.

She'll catch up to him. Their timelines will one day finally converge.

Robin smiles, more reassured than ever.

He'll see Regina again.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Let's celebrate the news from today with an update, shall we?_**

* * *

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I woke up this morning... on Tuesday, the 6th. Again. Looks like this repeating day wasn't a one-time thing. But I've been thinking, what if this is how we're brought together again?_

 _You say time is still moving for you, but it seems to have stopped for me. This means our timelines have to converge at some point, don't they? It'll take a year, but it will happen. I don't know much about magic, but I think whatever you did to that chalice broke whatever was keeping us apart._

 _I've already started marking the 363 days we have left, so I don't lose track of our time while I'm stuck in this loop. If something changes, I will let you know, but for once, I'm hoping things stay just as they are, at least this way I can be sure I'll be able to hold you in my arms again at last._

 _I miss you,_

 _-Robin._

She shows the letter to the Dragon as soon as she finishes reading it. Runs down the street to his shop and slams the paper on the counter, catching her breath as he curiously reads Robin's words.

And then, the stupid old man just says, "Ah. Of course."

"What the hell do you mean 'Of course'?" she snaps at him. "You knew this would happen?!"

"No. I did not," he replies, perfectly calm as he gently hands the letter back to her. "But Mr. Hood poses an interesting theory. There are a couple of flaws, but overall, I happen to believe he is right."

"Would you stop talking in riddles for _once_ and just tell me what's going on?!" she barks, and takes a deep breath when she feels Henry's hand squeeze hers in warning.

"Sorry," she says with a sigh, "I just need to know."

The Dragon smiles fondly at her, nods his head, and then explains.

"He says what you did to the chalice has caused this. I do not agree with that. I believe it wasn't your attack on that cup that stopped his timeline. It was the nature of your magic."

"I didn't— I just stopped it, there was no time traveling spell in there."

"I'm not talking about spells, I'm talking about you, my dear."

She throws him a quizzical, somewhat exasperated look, waiting impatiently for him to continue.

"What kept blocking your time traveling spells wasn't some random curse like we thought," he finally says. "It was you, Regina. You suppressing your darkness was the barrier, and when you accepted both sides of yourself, during your battle with the wretched magic in that cup, that barrier was destroyed."

Regina sighs, shaking her head as she tries to wrap her mind around this whole thing, and asks the one question that's been plaguing her since she read Robin's letter.

"We still won't try the new spells we found, because I draw the line at human sacrifice. But the ones we attempted before... does this mean those will work now?"

The Dragon's face grows sad, then, and he shakes his head at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Regina sees Henry's shoulders slump where he stands beside her, but his hand remains strong in its grip, reassuring her despite the bad news.

"I'm afraid traveling to the future is too unpredictable for even magic to be successful at it. You can try these spells again, if you'd like, but I believe they'll do more harm than good."

"How so?" asks Henry, and the man's gaze shifts to him as he answers.

"The future is unlimited. There are infinite alternatives as to what can happen an hour from now, let alone a year. Technically, the spells would work in taking you to the future now that the barrier is gone, but there is no way to pinpoint exactly _which_ future they would take you to. So far, we only know of one future in which your Robin is alive. One future. Out of infinite possibilities."

"So... odds are we wouldn't get to Robin, but to some other reality," Henry says slowly, dejectedly, and Regina feels a tear fall down her cheek as comprehension dawns on her, as well.

The Dragon is nodding solemnly, his hands clasped over his stomach, hidden by the wide sleeves of his kimono. "Thanks to your light and dark magic converging, the future he's in is now tied to _this_ particular version of the present, so regardless of what happens with us today, tomorrow, or the days that follow, this timeline _will_ take you to him. I know that having to wait for so long is not what you wanted, but at least this way you can be sure that you will find him when the time is right."

* * *

She grabs the stationary set and writes everything down when she gets home. Tries to keep as detailed an explanation as possible for Robin to read, and sends the letter along without dawdling. She can write him another letter later, but right now, she needs him to know everything.

His response is there less than an hour later, and she sighs as she opens the folded piece of paper and reads.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _This is all fantastic news! I know you wish the spells worked and we could be together right now. I do, too, but the Dragon is right. If the risk of trying them is you ending up in some other future where I'm truly gone forever, I'd much rather we both wait until the universe brings us back together. After Isaac's trick with the magic quill, and all this nonsense about that crystal, I feel we've had enough alternate realities to last us a lifetime._

 _Cheer up, my love. It's only a year. I'd wait that and more if it meant having you with me again. I miss you terribly. So much so, that sometimes I fear the weight of it will crush me. But there's real hope now, a light at the end of the tunnel, as Emma would say. We both have something to look forward to. We can make it, can't we?_

 _I love you so much. And I am so proud of you. I can't wait to see you again. Hold you. Whisper in your ear all I feel for you... You've no idea how happy I am that this is all now a solid possibility. I've never doubted you, Regina, not once, and you know this, but now that it's a reality, I can't help but feel elated to know for certain that we'll find each other once more._

 _I do have one request, though._

 _We are now sure that it'll be a full year before we meet again, and as I said, I will gladly wait for you, but I don't want my children to spend an entire year without you._

 _I know I can't convince you to go back to Storybrooke until it's time for us to meet, but please, promise me you'll visit them often. I'm aware that you've made sure they're taken care of while you're away, and I trust you. I'm sure that my men, and Snow and David and Granny, are all doing a good job, but... well, they're not you, Regina. We're a family, I don't want my son and daughter to miss you and Henry for that long. I can't be there yet, but they should still have at least one of their parents around._

 _What will you tell everyone? Do they know about what's happening?_

 _Just 363 days to go._

 _All my love,_

 _Robin._

Regina stares at the letter as tears fall down her cheeks.

 _One of their parents..._

 _We're a family..._

She's always thought of them as such, but the fact that Robin feels the same way has her heart doing giddy little somersaults as she takes in the words. There's the little hiccup that carries her sister's name, but somehow it doesn't feel as big of a deal anymore. Zelena is still the baby's mother, sure, but... she's Robin's daughter, too. _Her_ daughter.

Little Robin is currently with the Charmings and Granny, with the Merry Men making daily visits to check on her, bringing Roland along so he can spend time with his baby sister. Regina has ordered everyone to keep an eye on Zelena during her visitations, make sure she doesn't try anything beyond a simple lullaby and bottle feed. She feels a twinge of guilt over the precautions, but they are necessary. The fact that she and her sister have found a way to forgive each other, doesn't mean Zelena won't revert to her old self. Regina should know. She's been on that same redemption path for years now. Change doesn't happen overnight.

And there's also that slight hint of resentment she still carries over what Zelena did to Robin. Over how his daughter was conceived.

She's been trying to let go of the anger she feels towards her sister for what she did, but some wounds just aren't meant to heal that way, and Regina cannot bring herself to fully trust someone who was capable of such a despicable act. Sister or not.

So yes, she has Zelena watched, has the baby stay with people she trusts and who can keep an eye on her sister's actions. Granny Lucas may be old, but she has spark, is handy with a crossbow, and has a wolf for a granddaughter. And the Charmings, well... everyone loves the Charmings. The entire town will rally to defend baby Robin from Zelena if Snow, David and/or Emma so wish it.

Robin is right, though. Now that they know how long it'll be until he's back, Regina can't just stay here and leave the kids with the others. She has to go back.

But going back means she won't be able to communicate with Robin. She hasn't dared take the book out of the apartment, too scared it'll shatter whatever connection it is it has to Robin's timeline, and then they won't be able to talk to each other at all. So the leatherbound tales have remained on the desk since she got here, sending and receiving the letters that keep that tiny flame of hope alive inside her.

She can't bring it along. She has to leave it.

The realization that she won't have Robin's words to carry her through the day has her almost hyperventilating. She's gotten so used to telling him about her comings and goings, to hearing about his, that the prospect of leaving the quiet comfort of his prose makes her jittery.

A flash of orange catches her eye from the side, and she turns to look at the rose he sent her, sitting cheerfully next to the white and red lily. The sight calm her, lends serenity to her chaotic mind.

She'll go. But only for a couple of days, until she figures out a better solution. She'll be back.

Regina grabs a pen, and with a deep sigh, she begins to write.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _You're right, we can't leave the children alone for that long. I'll figure out a schedule and let you know what it is, and I'll head back to Storybrooke for the weekend, to check on the kids and maybe get you some more pictures._

 _I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I should've found a way to bring you back, or at the very least realized it was my own stupid ego keeping us apart and shattered that barrier sooner, so that the wait had started earlier... I don't know, but I should've done something, and I failed. Now you have to wait a whole year before you can see your children again and it's my fault._

 _I promise you, though, that I'll make sure they are safe and well looked after until your return. I will visit them as often as possible, and tell them stories about you, keep you present in their lives until you get here._

 _I was thinking... it might be best not to tell Roland you're coming back yet. I know it's awful, to let him continue being sad over his papa when there's no real reason to, but I just... I don't want to get his hopes up in case something goes wrong. It's your decision, though, so I will gladly tell him everything if you want me to._

 _Henry is very excited to see you again. He started a calendar for us, as well, marking down the days._

 _It's going to be a long year, but it's worth it. You're worth it to me, Robin._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

She doesn't stay to watch the letter go (she usually does, likes the reassuring image of the book on that desk, the space between its pages unburdened when her letter disappears), and instead darts to her room to start packing.

"Something wrong, mom?" Henry asks when he catches her throwing clothes into a suitcase.

"We're going home after school tomorrow," she informs him, "pack your stuff."

"But mom—"

"Robin wants me to check on Roland and the baby. If it's going to be a year before we find him, I can't just leave the children, I have to be there, I have to see them."

"Okay, but why tomorrow?" he looks confused, his brow set in a frown that reminds her startlingly of Neal.

"Because it's Friday," she answers. "We'll come back Sunday so that you're back on time for school."

"Oh. So we're not, like, moving back, then?"

She sighs, shakes her head as she lets a red blouse fall from her hands and onto the bed.

"I can't leave for a whole year. Our letters, we— I need to know that he's there."

"And writing to him is how you know," Henry finishes for her, nodding in understanding. Not for the first time, Regina wonders what she did to deserve him.

"Yeah," is all she says in return, a small smile on her lips as she holds her son's hand.

It's past eleven when she finds Robin's answering letter. Henry is already asleep in his room, after having exhausted the subject of time travel with her. He'd been curious to know how it all works, how it applies to their current situation, and Regina wishes she could have given him more concise answers, but she doesn't have them. Still, she'd tried to be as thorough as possible, explained as much as she could to him, and had felt a little bit of pride when her son had looked at her in awe as she spoke.

She's alone in bed now, with her and Henry's suitcases already packed and sitting neatly by the bedroom door, ready for their road trip tomorrow.

The paper crinkles a bit as she settles in to read.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I've said this a lot already, but I will say it again, I'll say it however many times it takes for you to believe it: This is not your fault._

 _You're not the reason I have to wait a year before I see my children. In fact, you're actually the reason I'll get to see them again at all... Regina, you've single-handedly defended your son from evil magic, embraced who you are, and broken the barrier keeping us apart. It's because of you, and your courage, and your resilient, wonderful heart, that I get to return to you. And once I do, I'm never letting go again._

 _I'm so relieved to know you're spending the weekend in Storybrooke. I'll miss your letters for the next few days, but I won't stop writing. When you get back, you'll have a lot to read._

 _I love you for wanting to protect my son, and I understand why you'd be hesitant to tell him, but the truth is, I can't live another day with him thinking I'm dead. Even if things go awry, it has to be better for him to know that I'm alive, right? The fact that he's mourning me breaks my heart whenever I think about it. I don't want him to be sad, I need him to know that I'm here, and that I love him, that I'll see him again._

 _Tell Henry I'm planning on trying some Mongolian barbecue tomorrow. I want to see what all his fuss is about. I highly doubt it's better than anything you cook, though, my love, so don't worry, you won't lose me to takeout._

 _I can't wait to hear all about your weekend. Be careful on the drive, and come back to me safe, alright?_

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

Regina smiles, shaking her head in amusement at his takeout comment. She sighs when her eyes drift back to the paragraph before that, though.

He wants Roland to know.

She understands, of course, and she supposes he's right, even if things don't work out the way they're hoping, at the very least his son will know Robin's alive. That has to be better than thinking him gone.

Still, Regina can't say she's looking forward to telling him. Roland has suffered so much loss at his young age, she's afraid he'll hold onto this new hope just a little too tight.

The prospect of that conversation has her nerves acting up the entire drive home, and the closer they get to Storybrooke, the more anxious she is.

Snow and baby Neal are waiting for them at the mansion when they pull in, and David helps them with their suitcases while Emma hugs Henry tightly.

"How's it going, kid?" she asks with a smile as she pulls away, and Henry excitedly looks to Regina, waiting for her to nod her approval before he launches into an explanation of everything that's happened.

They've barely made it past the door and he's already breezing through the details, adding his own embellishments and sound effects as he tells them all about the chalice, what it did to him, and how Regina stopped it. Emma's eyes widen, David gasps, but Snow, Snow only looks at Regina, and she smiles.

"Our own special hero," she tells her, stretching her free hand to grab Regina's and squeeze.

"All I did was kill the thing," Regina says nonchalantly, leaning down to hold little Neal's hand and coo at him.

"You saved our son," Emma intervenes, making Regina look up from her little game with Neal. "And you did it by being you. Not a savior or an evil queen, but... you."

"Mom, you should've seen her! She was awesome, and then she broke the barrier!" Henry adds, talking to Emma, who puts an arm around him and hugs him to her.

"Wait, what barrier?" she asks when she realizes what he's said.

"The barrier keeping Robin away!" Henry exclaims, and he's so happy as he tells the story, Regina can't help but smile despite her nerves.

"What's he talking about?" Emma asks then.

Regina fills them in on everything. Tells them all about the Dragon and his revelation, about the whole ordeal with the chalice serving as a catalyst for Robin's timeline to stop, and how now they have to wait until this time next year, and they'll see him again.

"So he's coming back?" Snow asks, grinning widely as she shifts Neal to lie more comfortably in her arms.

"That's how it's supposed to go, yes." Regina confirms her statement with a nod, and then, "Where are the children?"

"The baby is at Granny's, and the Merry Men took Roland for a walk in the forest. He's missed you so much, Regina. He'll be so happy to see you," Snow tells her, and Regina can't help but squirm awkwardly in her seat.

"I... I need to talk to him. Alone. Explain all this," she says.

"Of course," her step-daughter replies kindly, awkwardly fishing her cell phone out of her pocket. "I'll text John and tell him to bring him over."

"John can text?" Henry pipes up, making David laugh as he takes the baby from Snow.

"Ruby taught him how to use a smartphone. They've been sending each other cat videos all week," he tells them, and Regina takes comfort in her son's answering laugh, grins a bit at the mental image, herself.

She relaxes a little, comforted by the ease of their family dynamic. She and Snow make tea while Neal naps in his bouncy chair, and Emma and David head out with Henry to pick up baby Robin (and grab some donuts in the process, too, Regina bets).

In under an hour they're all back at the house, and Regina delights in holding the little bundle of soft pink blankets, bops the child's nose with the tip of her finger and places a gentle kiss on her downy head. She's beautiful, smiles at Snow's funny faces and showcases dimples that are unmistakably her father's.

"She looks more and more like Robin every day," Regina observes, and Emma agrees with a grunt over a mouthful of donut.

"Don' let 'elena hear you say tha', though," she says then, and Regina rolls her eyes at the woman's lack of table manners.

"Swallow," she orders, and Emma does. "Now. Speak."

"I said, don't let Zelena hear you say that," the blonde clarifies. "She gets all weird when people comment on Robin and the baby."

"What do you mean weird?"

"I think she feels guilty. And she hates us for keeping an eye on her. And then she feels guilty for hating us... kind of a vicious cycle."

"Has she tried anything?" Regina asks.

"Not yet, but now that you're here, maybe you can talk to her? Tell her we're not the enemy?"

Regina nods at her friend, instinctively bouncing the baby in her arms when she starts to fuss a bit.

"Regina, they're here," Snow announces, then opens her arms to take the baby. "David took Neal upstairs. I'll take little Robin up, too, and feed her while you talk to Roland."

Regina nods, suddenly unable to form words. Her nerves are twisting her stomach into knots the entire time it takes for everyone to leave the kitchen.

Snow passes the living room on her way up, smiles at Roland's excited question of, "Can I give her the bottle?!"

"I'm sorry, honey, but you need to talk to Regina, remember? I'll have to feed your sister alone this time. But you can come up after you're done here and help me sing her to sleep, okay?"

Roland nods, kisses his sister's forehead when Snow crouches down low enough for him to reach, and Regina feels a little tug in her heart at the sight as she peeks out of the kitchen door.

Silence falls over the house then. Everyone is upstairs in Henry's room, their voices muffled by the closed door, and Roland and John are alone in the living room, with the curly-haired boy asking his uncle how much longer it'll be before he sees Regina.

Right. Time to get out there.

Regina takes a deep breath, tries to settle the nerves that have come back in full force, and exits the kitchen. It's now or never.

* * *

Roland's hug suckerpunches her right in the gut. His little arms wrapping around her tightly just as he mutters a tiny "I missed you, Regina," that has tears building instantly.

"I've missed you, too, sweetheart," she chokes out, holding on to him and running a hand through curls that have grown a bit longer than they should. It's a tiny thing, and maybe he even has a haircut appointment scheduled already, but it hits her, makes her feel guilty that she hasn't been here to take care of him. The Merry Men and the Charmings seem to be doing a good job, but it's not the same. It's not her.

"Uncle John said you wanted to tell me something," Roland mutters against her shirt, still holding on to her where they sit together on the couch. He's in her lap, cuddled into her as he speaks, his tiny hands gripping her arm as if in fear she'll leave again. It only makes the tears that much harder to keep at bay.

"I did!" she tries to fake enthusiasm, but her cheerfulness sounds stiff even to her own ears. "You see, Roland, I... we... your papa, he... he's alive."

He looks up then, finds her eyes with those big brown ones of his and stares at her.

"He, um, he didn't... die, sweetheart, he... he was transported. Magic took him to the future."

"The future?"

"Yes. It's a little complicated," Regina presses on, "but that's why I've... I went to New York, because that's where he is, only not now, but a year from now."

He frowns at that, confused, so she takes a deep breath, and tries her best to explain.

"When your papa... when he saved me from Hades, we all thought he had died, but then... Do you remember that book I gave to your father? The one with all the stories this world has about him?"

The boy nods slowly, and Regina nods in time with him.

"Well, okay, that book, that book has magic, Roland. I didn't know, but it does, and it— your papa wrote me a letter and he put it inside the book. When I found it, I decided to reply to him, even when I knew he was gone. I just wanted to tell him that I missed him, even if he never read it."

"You were sad," he concludes, and Regina nods again.

"I was, so I wrote him a letter, and I put it inside the book where he had left his... and when I checked again, it was gone. And then... Roland, he wrote back."

He gasps at that, shifts a little in her lap.

"But we put him in the box, Regina, I saw it. The box with the arrows that we put in the cemtry."

"Cemetery," she corrects. "And yes, we did, but after I got that letter, I came back to check and, sweetheart, he wasn't there."

"He wasn't?!"

"No. That's how I knew it was real, that he really was writing to me. A friend of mine who knows a lot about magic explained to me, that because your daddy died to save me, and because he... loves me—" gods, that word still sounds so foreign on her tongue, but she believes it, is completely sure of Robin's feelings for her, and the knowledge still sends a little thrill through her. "Because he loves me, the bad magic didn't work on him, and it brought him back, but it was a little wonky, and he ended up in this world, but in the future. I tried spells to bring him to our time, but they didn't work, so we have to wait for a year before we see him again, and I'm very sorry about that. But Roland, he's alive, he's coming back."

Her emotions get the best of her, and the tears finally fall as she smiles at the boy.

Except Roland isn't smiling, he's just looking at her, frowning.

"Roland? Honey, what's wrong?" she asks, and the boy only shakes his head.

"No!" he says.

"What do you mean, no?"

"You're lying. We put him in the box, Regina, he's gone with the angels now, like my mama, he's not coming back," he deadpans, and his voice is somber, far darker than it should be for a boy his age.

"Roland, I'm not lying," she tells him firmly, "your father is alive, and he is coming back. I've been writing to him for over a month now."

She tries to soothe him, to run a hand through his hair again, but it's clearly the wrong move. Roland recoils from her, gets off her lap and stands in front of her, his face set in an angry stare.

"I don't believe you. Uncle John says when people go with the angels they can't come back. You're lying!"

And with that, he runs out of the living room, crying and refusing to acknowledge the "Roland, please!" she throws after him.

Henry, she notices now, is standing at the stairs, and pauses Roland's attempt to stomp up them, puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder and waits for Regina to reach them.

"I've seen the letters, Roland," he explains, "it's true. Robin's alive."

He believes it then. Maybe it's because it's Henry telling him, and not an adult, but he finally believes it. The change in his crying is so subtle that hardly anyone would notice it, but to Regina, it is jarring. In an instant, it goes from angry, to confused, to desperate, and he's turning back to look at her then, all tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

"He's alive?" he asks in a small voice, and Regina smiles as more of her own tears start to fall. She kneels down in front of him, replaces Henry's hand on Roland's shoulder, and looks him in the eyes as she repeats it.

"He is, sweetheart, and he wanted me to tell you that he loves you more than anything, and he will try everything he can to come back to us."

He launches himself into her arms then, and Regina holds on tight, mouths a _Thank you_ to her son as he leaves them to it.

Roland cries and sniffles for at least ten minutes, his arms looped around her neck while Regina stays there, knees painfully pressed against the linoleum floor, but she doesn't dare move them to the couch just yet. She'll remain here until he's ready.

Finally, he pries himself away from her, and cleans up his tearful face with the back of his hand.

"Regina?"

"Yes, Roland?"

"How long is a year?"

She laughs at that, a wet chuckle that makes him smile. He likes making her laugh, she's noticed, likes to be the one to end her sadness when it creeps over. Just like his father.

She explains about the calendar, about counting down the days left before the timelines converge, and he insists on making one, himself, so that he and the baby can count down, too.

"I have to go back to New York the day after tomorrow, so I can let your father know that I've spoken to you, and that you're eating all your vegetables, and being a good big brother. But I'll come back again soon, okay? I'll come here as much as I can and bring the letters with me so you can see them."

He cries again, then, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Oh, honey, what's wrong? What's wrong? Tell me," she insists.

"I don't know how to read," he tells her, "I want to read the letters but I don't know how!"

"Oh, Roland, that's alright, baby. I'll read them to you. I'll read everything to you, and then I can teach you how to read, too."

"Really?" he asks then, and he looks so sad and confused, she wishes she could fix this now. Wishes she didn't have to put him through the pain of living without his papa for an entire year.

"I promise," she answers, and then, "In fact, I promised him I would take some pictures of you and your sister to send to him, so why don't you go wash your face? You don't want to look all blotchy in the pictures, do you?"

He shakes his head, then walks with slumped shoulders to the guest bathroom, leaving Regina alone in the foyer by the stairs.

She sits on the bottom step, elbows on her knees as she sinks her head in her hands, and breathes.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Sooo... 5 years ago today, OUAT aired for the very first time. Happy Reginaversary, everyone!_**

* * *

His days without Regina's letters are completely and utterly horrible, he's discovered.

He misses her words. Misses having that connection to her. But she's in Storybrooke, checking on his children, so he is thankful.

However, not having her letters means he's alone with his own thoughts, thoughts that are not quite as cheerful as he would hope.

He thinks about Roland, about how confused and scared he must be feeling, believing his father is gone forever. Thinks about his little girl, and how he's missing the first year of her life. He thinks about Zelena getting to raise her while he can't, and anger bubbles up inside him, no matter how much he tries to keep it at bay.

He thinks of Storybrooke itself, of the colorful town and how it's become his home. He thinks of Granny and her cooking, thinks of early morning coffee at her diner, with Regina sitting next to him in one of the booths near the corner, her hand clasped in his as they stare at each other and grin mischievously.

He tries to write to her, like he promised he would. But his days are maddeningly monotonous, and so there's very little to tell. The oven at the Capparellis' bakery breaks again. And again. Robin has become a master at fixing it by now, but it no longer feels like an accomplishment. Instead it's annoying, overdone, but he continues to repair it, finds comfort in the fact that every time he does he is one day closer to Regina.

Today, he decides to take a walk in the park after his work at the bakery is done. Grabs one of those delicious scones to go and enjoys it under the shade of a willow tree near the lake, watching the ducks and swans swim by happily.

He's missed nature, has missed his connection to it, to a life in the trees and surrounded by dirt and green pastures. He welcomes the moment, drinks in the sunshine as he munches on the pastry and thinks of a simpler life back in the Enchanted Forest.

He's surprised to realize he no longer thinks of that life as the one he was meant to live.

Robin had always thought himself a man of the forest, still does, but somehow his definition of the life he wants has shifted. Yes, he loves the forest, considers it his second home. And that's exactly it. It's no longer his only home, but his second one.

His first home is Regina. And the life he wants with her and their children. The life he is forbidden from returning to until a year passes.

The revelation doesn't weigh heavy on him, doesn't fill him with nerves as it would anyone whose priorities have changed so dramatically in such a short time. Instead, it makes him smile, makes him breathe easier as he takes that last bite of scone and pops it into his mouth. He reclines against the trunk of the willow, sighs contentedly, and admires the beauty around him.

He remembers then, that Regina's battle with the magical chalice happened here, in Central Park, a year ago now. Robin wonders if there's anything left of that battle. He should ask Regina on what part of the park it all took place, so that he can go there and check. It's possible nothing will be left of it by now, that there won't even be a mark, but for some reason he wants there to be, wants to find something physical that will prove this whole ordeal will have its reward.

* * *

Robin tries to tell himself to stop pining, to go out and distract himself, and he does. Visits the Capparellis in the afternoon and then stops by the flower shop again on his way home. He buys a tulip this time, a red one that matches the shade Regina tends to prefer on her lips, and brings it back to the apartment, adding it to his newly penned letter.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I know I said I would write, but truth is there isn't much to tell. Everything is stuck on a loop, and fixing that oven has become quite an annoyance for me at this point. Mrs. Capparelli makes scones of different flavors every time, though, so that is always a nice surprise._

 _I was at the park today, and wondered where exactly it was that you tried to bury that chalice when it turned on you. I'd like to find that spot and see if there's anything left from that day. It's all just out of mere curiosity, really. Without you to talk to, I've had quite a long time to ponder these things._

 _While you've been gone, I've tried to think of things I can do here while we wait, so that I have something other than "I fixed Mr. Capparelli's oven today," to tell you in my letters. I might take some cooking classes, learn a bit from different cuisines. If you ever mention this to Mrs. Capparelli, I will fiercely deny it, but I've become a bit tired of Italian food. Maybe I'll try French, it seems interesting enough. Or I could learn to make a proper hamburger, give Granny a run for her money._

 _I hope your weekend was more eventful than mine. How's my daughter? And my men? How did Roland react when he found out I'm alive? How was the drive? Did Henry enjoy being back with everyone?_

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

To his surprise, her answer only takes a an hour to reach him.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I'm afraid I must start this letter on a sad note._

 _I spoke to Roland, like you asked. I told him all about you surviving the crystal's power by saving me, I told him about our letters, and about magic affecting your return by placing you in a future timeline. I tried to be as direct and careful as possible, Robin, I really did, but Roland did not take it well._

 _All this time he's been learning to cope with the idea of living without you, and all of a sudden he finds out his reality is no longer true, that you're alive, but can't be here with him right now, and it was all just a little confusing for him. At first he refused to believe me, and it was only when Henry confirmed it that he allowed himself to trust the information I was giving him._

 _I tried to settle him down as best I could, and said I would visit him often, and that he wouldn't be alone. I told him I'm in New York waiting for you, and that the second I see you, I'll take you to him._

 _He cried so much, Robin, and I didn't know how to ease his pain, so then I cried, too, which didn't really help matters. It's not an experience I'd like to repeat._

 _I also promised him that I would read him your letters, and tell him what you're up to, so I think the cooking classes are a great idea. It'll give me something fun to show Roland. He was so tearful, I want to give him more the next time I'm there, I want him to see that this is a good thing._

 _Your daughter is every bit the beautiful little outlaw Ruby said she is. She's gorgeous, Robin, and looks so much like you. Her personality reminds me of you, too. She prefers your men to the Charmings, for starters, and she likes being outdoors. Ruby and Granny have been babysitting her a lot and tell me she won't go to sleep unless she hears the sound of leaves rustling and crickets chirping, much to prince Neal's annoyance. Did I ever tell you how much of a spoiled brat Snow was as a child? She couldn't sleep with the window open because the sound of the wind blowing bothered her. I'm starting to think little Neal may take after his mother, with the way he was screaming last night when we opened the window to help the baby settle. Or maybe it's because he's teething, I can't really be sure._

 _Your men miss you. I told John everything, and he passed the message along to the others. They were shocked at first, but once that wore off they were all incredibly happy. They're very eager have you back, and asked me to tell you that "If you're going to make us wait so bloody long to see you, you best bring presents". Of course, I tried to explain that this isn't some vacation you're taking, but you know how they are._

 _The trip itself was pretty easy to do. The drive didn't feel as long as I thought it would be, and Henry loved being back home with everyone. He got to spend some time with Emma and got to see Violet (I still don't know how to feel about him having a girlfriend, but that's a conversation for another time). He was also very excited to come back to New York, though. He loves his school here, and his friends. I think this is what our schedule will be from now on. It's a good balance. I get to spend my week here, writing to you, and then I'll go back to Storybrooke every Friday afternoon, spend the weekend with the kids, and return on Sundays to tell you all about it._

 _Thank you for the tulip. It's beautiful. I've placed it on a vase with the rose and the lily you sent me, and I may or may not have added a preservation potion to the water they're in, to keep them from withering..._

 _Enclosed are some pictures of our trip. I hope you like them._

 _Love,_

 _Regina_.

The pictures are beautiful. Shot after shot of his children and their various caretakers. He smiles when he finds one of John holding baby Robin, his grin so big it makes his eyes look tiny.

There's one of Ruby and Roland, both sticking out their tongues at the camera, one of Henry and Roland poised with their bows and arrows, and one of Emma laughing while giving Roland a piggy-back ride. The next photo is one of Henry holding the baby, followed by another of Henry, David and Roland making faces at the camera, and then another of all three kids sitting on the lavish couch in Regina's mansion, little Robin held securely in Roland's arms as Henry smiles.

That one almost gets him. Almost. But he reins in the tears, tames the ache he feels in his chest at the gorgeous sight.

That is, until his eyes settle on the very last picture in the bunch.

It's a picture of Regina sitting on the couch. A picture of Regina holding his daughter in her arms, enamored by her and completely oblivious to the camera. Her eyes are glued to the tiny being in her care, and her smile is bright and open as she watches her. Roland is leaning over Regina's shoulder, his curls wild and bouncy as he looks down at his sister, her tiny fist grasping Regina's index finger near her mouth.

Robin loses the battle against the tears then, but he grins, laughs even, because it's quite literally the most beautiful image he's ever set eyes on, and it's all his. This must be Henry's handiwork, the style of the photo is very similar to the one he'd taken of her at the fountain, the one Regina had sent along some letters ago. Robin would give that boy the world in gratitude for the stunning moment he's captured for him.

His eyes shift from Regina's face to Roland's, and Robin feels a pang of guilt at having caused his son so much grief, hates that he can't make it better.

Although... maybe he could.

Before he replies to Regina's letter, he writes one to his son. Words flow easily from the moment he starts, and it helps ease the pain in his soul, has him hoping it will make Roland smile, and maybe write back a letter of his own, with Regina's help.

He places the paper in an envelope. It's been a long time since he's done that with the letters he and Regina send to each other, but this is his son's first piece of mail, and Robin wants to make it memorable, to add that bit of joy that always comes from unwrapping a present.

After he's done with Roland's, Robin reads Regina's letter several times over.

He's been starved for her words, and he takes them all in with a sigh of relief, then thinks over his answer for a few minutes before he finally puts it into writing.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _Glad to hear you had a safe and easy drive._

 _The pictures are amazing, especially the last one. Tell Henry thank you for me, it is now my most prized possession._

 _I'm saddened to know that Roland is having such a tough time accepting all this. I'm sorry I put you in a position where you had to deliver such news, I know I shouldn't have asked this of you when you said you weren't ready to tell him, but he deserved to know, Regina, and I'm so grateful that you and Henry were there to comfort him and explain everything._

 _I've written him a letter, and I'm sending it along with this one. Maybe next time you visit, you can read it to him? It's nothing major, really, but I feel like it might help him come to terms with this if he sees proof of it._

 _I hate that I can't be there for him and soothe his fears, but he has to know how much he means to me, he has to. Please don't let him forget that while I'm away._

 _You're right, my daughter really does take after me. That birthmark by her chin? I used to have it when I was a child, and her eyelashes are so long, just as my mother's were. She's beautiful, and she looks so at home in your arms, Regina. Just seeing that photo made me incredibly happy, and I can't wait to witness those moments first-hand._

 _Please tell my men I am not a pack mule. The moment our timelines converge, all I want to do is find you, kiss you, and go home to my children. I will not be delayed by having to carry presents for my oafish friends._

 _I like the idea of traveling to Storybrooke every weekend. It seems like the most solid option at the moment, and that way Henry won't miss school, which I'm guessing is why you chose this schedule in the first place. Would it be too much if I asked you to keep the pictures coming? I enjoy them immensely._

 _I'll see about the cooking classes and let you know how it goes. Hopefully Roland won't laugh too much at me when I tell him I burned everything in the kitchen, as I'm likely to do._

 _Thank you for going, for making sure my children are safe and provided for. I miss you so much, Regina. Every time I cross off a day on my calendar, I breathe just a little bit easier. The mere idea of holding you again makes my pulse quicken. I cannot wait to see you._

 _Just 360 days left._

 _All my love,_

 _Robin_.

He wishes he could see her, could tell her everything in person. The desire to _speak_ his every written word has been there from day one, but now it's stronger than ever. He wants to be there for her, with her, wants to see his son and promise him he will never go away again, and above all, Robin wants to _keep_ that promise.

The calendar he's made rests on the bedside table, just to the left side of his lamp. The green marker he's procured for this purpose comes from an abandoned box of crayons and other coloring instruments in Roland's old room, and just the sight of it has him missing his boy that much more. Robin remembers their afternoons here, remembers the pictures Roland would draw for him, pictures that often included a squiggly, stick-figure Regina holding his hand or giving him ice cream...

The fact that his absence is causing his son this much pain eats at him, keeps him up til the very late hours, until exhaustion wins out and drags him under for a while.

When he wakes, the ache is even stronger.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Happy New Year! Hiatus is over._**

 ** _Enjoy the chapter =)_**

* * *

Regina runs her finger over the sealed envelope that accompanies Robin's newest letter, and smiles sadly at his words. He's written to his son, wants him to know everything will be alright. Something inside her clenches at the thought. He's such a good father, and that ever-present despair in her heart stirs, reminds her that she will never give him another child to parent as beautifully as he does Roland.

 _It doesn't matter_ , says a voice — _his_ voice— in her head. They have three children, three beautiful children that they love, and that is enough. What's more, they have each other, they chose each other, _love_ each other. Robin and their children are all she needs.

Regina forces aside the sadness, focuses on the here and now, on Robin's loving words and his palpable happiness over the pictures she's sent. She's glad he liked them so much, and passes on his thanks to Henry for the picture of herself, Roland and the baby. She'd known from the start that it would be his favorite, had placed it last in the pile to sweeten the surprise, and she's pleased to know she was right.

She calls John's cell right away and asks to speak to Roland. Robin said the letter was for when she returned, but she really wants to just read it to him now, she can't spend this week thinking of him all sad and confused in Storybrooke when she has something that could ease his fears.

"Hi 'ina," he says into the phone, his voice muffled and incoherent. He's most likely speaking with his mouth smushed against the mouthpiece of the device, as he tends to do because he _'Wants to make sure she can hear him'._

"Honey?" she starts, "Remember what I taught you about phone calls? Your mouth can't touch the phone when you speak. I can't understand what you're saying."

"Sorry," he amends, and that's better. Much better.

"It's okay," Regina soothes, "I just wanted to be able to hear you correctly. I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?" he asks, his tone perking up at the news.

"Your papa sent me a letter he wrote just for you!"

His voice goes sad in an instant, and she can picture his lower lip jutting out in a tiny little pout as he says, "But I don't know how to read yet."

Regina smiles.

"Don't worry, Roland, I'll read it to you, just like I promised, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees.

"Shall I start?"

He surprises her with a resounding, "No."

"Roland?"

"I want you to read it to me _here_ , Regina," he says, and he sounds so miserable when he tacks on a tiny, "I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart," she admits, her voice breaking far more than she should let it.

"You'll come home again soon, right?"

"Yes, Roland, I will, and Henry, too. We'll go visit you this weekend and you can show him that tree house you and John are building. Would you like that?"

"Yeah," comes his sad little voice, "and you can read me the letter and we can make those apple things I like?"

"The turnovers? Of course," she promises. "But are you sure you don't want me to read the letter now?"

"I want to read it with you. You're still going to teach me, aren't you?"

"I promised I would, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Have I ever broken a promise to you?" she asks, realizing all too late that she may have. She's broken so many promises to so many people...

"No, you haven't."

The answer washes over her like a soothing balm, one that heals and refreshes the burnt corners of her heart as she exhales her relief and smiles.

"Exactly," she says. "How about this? When I see you this weekend, I'll read it to you, and after that, we'll make the turnovers, and after we eat them, we'll read it again so I can teach you how. Is that okay?"

"Yes," he says, his tone sounding slightly less sad, but still so lackluster in comparison to the usual cheerfulness that accompanies his voice.

They talk a little more after that. She asks what he's been up to, how the Merry Men are doing, how his sister has been behaving, and what new things he's been doing with Ruby when they explore the forest together. Roland answers her every question dutifully, but Regina can tell his heart is not in it.

Her attempts to perk him up have fallen short, and by the time she hangs up, his goodbye is a tired mumble resonating in her ears.

She's crying, unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks as she considers Roland's mood, Roland's _life_ , all the things he's had to deal with lately. Even with the memories of a fake Marian and his life in New York erased, he's still had so many traumatic experiences, mainly because of Regina's involvement in his life—

"Mom?" Henry's voice cuts through her self-deprecating thoughts. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head at him, tries to smile through the tears.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Bullshit," he says.

"Henry Daniel!" Regina exclaims, her grief momentarily replaced with a firm tone and a set brow as she stares at him, scandalized at his choice of language. She does not use that word, he must've learned it from Emma.

"Sorry," he apologizes, but only half-heartedly, then adds, "but you're crying, and I can't help if you don't tell me why."

Regina sighs then, and reasons he's right, they agreed they were in this together, the least she can do is be honest with him.

"I'm worried about Roland."

"Oh," Henry says, "was that him on the phone?"

She nods, and the grief is back, more tears building up in her eyes as she looks up at her son from her seat.

He walks toward her, grips her hand and tells her, "He'll be alright, mom, he just needs time."

"I don't know, Henry, he's so... off, like he's not himself, and I hate that I can't do anything to make him feel better."

"The second he sees Robin again, everything will be fine. In the meantime, we just have to be there for him."

"There has to be more we can do," Regina insists.

Henry lets go of her hand, walks around the table and hugs her from behind, his arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders as he rests his cheek against hers. Regina moves her hands to grasp both of his where they meet over her chest, and lets herself lean into his embrace.

"You're a great mom, and you want him to be happy, I get that. And he will be. We just have to be patient."

"Robin sent him a letter."

"I'm sure that will help a lot. Maybe you should have Roland write him something back, too."

"That's a good idea," Regina agrees, nodding.

"Feel better?" he asks her, and she smiles, shakes her head.

"Just one more minute," she tells him, and he chuckles, but holds on to her, offering comfort she so desperately needs. Regina takes it, lets her love of her son (and his for her) seep into her very skin.

When the storm inside her finally starts to calm itself, she sighs, tapping his hand and letting him know it's okay to let go.

"I'll go start dinner, okay?" he tells her, and doesn't wait for her answer as he heads into their little kitchen and starts taking vegetables out of the fridge.

There's something in the sight of him, so at home here as he chops carrots and runs the sink to wash the celery. He looks... grown, so _adult_ even at his young age. Regina wonders where time went, when he stopped being the chubby-cheeked toddler she nursed and played tag with, and became this smart, considerate, wonderful young man she sees before her, moving around his father's old apartment like he owns it. And, well, Regina reasons, he does. He does own it.

Neal didn't have much, but he had this place. He'd bought it years ago (where the funds for that came from, Regina has no idea, and considering Neal's fraudulent ways of supporting himself, she'd rather not know). Had hired a lawyer to put the deed in Henry's name when he'd found out his son existed, something Regina can't help but admire him for. He'd been hoping to leave Henry something meaningful, something he can call home if he ever chooses to.

With Neal gone, Regina is the acting owner until Henry turns 18. Of course, when she'd offered the apartment to Robin, she had first asked her son if he was okay with the arrangement. Henry hadn't even blinked, offered his full support immediately, and it had meant the world to her.

Now, though, after all these topsy turvy events, the apartment will be empty again when this whole thing is finished, and Regina can see her son living here in a few years, attending college in New York, building a life outside of Storybrooke...

The very thought has her eyes watering, and a sniffle escapes her before she can tame it.

"Mom?" Henry asks, pausing just as he's about to pour some chicken stock into a pot.

"I'm fine," she says, meaning it when she insists, "really, I am, I just... you've grown up so much. Soon you won't need me."

He laughs at that, shakes his head and says just the right thing to soothe her battered heart.

"I may not be a baby anymore, but I'm always gonna need you. You're my mom."

She laughs, nods her head, and makes him grin when she tells him, "You're right, you're never getting rid of me."

Then, she rises from her seat and moves to help him with dinner.

* * *

On Friday, they drive to Storybrooke once again, and this time, the ride isn't as smooth. There is traffic thanks to a nasty car crash just a few hundred feet away from her exit, and so Regina is forced to sit in her car for over two hours, waiting for the all-clear to keep moving, her frustration growing despite Henry's attempts to keep her distracted.

They arrive in town at a very late hour, and so she doesn't get to see Roland until the next day.

Regina collapses on her bed, exhausted from the long journey, her body aching from being in the car all day. Her pillows are comfy, her sheets cool and soft to the touch, and the cold glass of water her son brings up for her helps dull the shooting pain on the back of her neck, as do the couple of Excedrin she downs before bed.

Come morning, she's feeling much more relaxed, and is able to greet Roland with a genuine smile on her face, her arms instantly wrapping around him in a hug when he jumps from John's arms and runs to the door towards her. John leaves them to it, gives her a kind smile and a wave and walks back the way he came.

"You're back!" he tells her, and he's so excited to see her, so happy to have her there, that for a moment he seems like the old Roland, instead of the upset little boy she's been speaking to lately. Regina wonders what she ever did to deserve such love from him.

"I am!" she confirms. "Now, what do you say we go inside, and I read you that letter your papa sent you?"

He lights up at that, smiles back and nods his head as he follows her into the living room.

He climbs up into her lap, his curls soft against her cheek as she rests her head on his, and together, they carefully open the envelope.

Robin has drawn a little bow and arrow at the top, right next to Roland's name, and it makes them both chuckle before Regina takes a deep breath and begins to read.

" _Dear Roland_ ," she starts, her voice low, but clear.

" _Regina tells me you've been feeling a bit strange with all these things that are happening. I feel strange, too, so I understand. Everything is a little confusing, isn't it? But know this: I am here, and I love you so, so much, my boy. I wish I could be there sooner, but trust me when I say it's best that we wait. You can maybe mark the days down, like Regina and I are doing. Tell John or Ruby to help you, okay?_

 _I'm trying to learn to cook, and this lovely lady I met has been teaching me to make pizza and pasta and lasagna (though it's not as good as Regina's, of course)_ —"

She smiles at that, and feels Roland's little laugh rumble against her.

" _—and even desserts! Is there anything you really like to eat lately? I could learn to make it and then we can both have some together when I get back. You can tell Regina what you want, and she'll let me know in her next letter._

 _I miss you so much. I know it's going to take a little while, but I will be back with you as soon as I can, and then we can play together and go camping with your uncle John. And you can tell me about what you've been learning at school and how your sister is doing. You're the big brother, so I trust you're taking care of her, just like Henry takes care of you._

 _I'd also like to ask you, to take care of Regina for me. I know she's a grown-up, and we've always said she's one of the strongest, most wonderful people we know, but sometimes she needs hugs, too, alright? So make sure you give her lots every time you see her._

 _I love you, son. Don't forget that._

 _-Your papa._ "

She's silently crying again, unable to hold back as she watches Roland run a tiny finger over the words on the paper, tracing the shapes of the letters. A sob erupts from her involuntarily, and it has him pulling back and looking at her, his lower lip trembling.

"What's wrong, Regina?" he asks, fear clear in his tone.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart, I just... I miss your daddy," she answers, and there's an understanding in the tiny nod he gives her, a kinship over their shared pain, and then he's hugging her so tightly, it's all Regina can do to cling to him like a lifeline.

"This is why you need hugs?" he murmurs in her ear, and he's trying so hard to be strong, to take care of her like Robin asked, but she can feel the way he's shaking in her arms, can tell he's about to cry as well.

So she lets him.

"It is. But that doesn't mean you can't be sad, Roland. It's okay to be sad, I know you miss your father, too."

The dam bursts then, and he's soaking her shirt with his tears as she rocks him back and forth, back and forth, both of them too overwhelmed to speak.

She doesn't really know how much time they spent like that, just holding each other, giving and taking the comfort so long denied them by circumstance. Regina keeps rocking them on her couch, keeps running her hand up and down Roland's back, and relaxes only when he does, their breaths slowly syncing together, until the sound of his exhales is confused with hers, and the silence in the house lulls them into a small reprieve.

"Regina?" Roland asks. He's still in her grip, still cuddled up against her with his face buried in her shirt, and so the word is muffled against the fabric, but she hears him all the same.

"Yes, Roland?"

"The baby sneezed today," he tells her then, and there it is, the thing that makes him his father's son. It's not the dimples, or the charm, or the uncanny similarity of their laughter. It's this. The way he lights up her world by saying just the right thing.

"She did?" Regina asks into his hair, and she feels him nod against her. "Is she sick?"

"No," Roland answers, his voice small, but calmer than she's heard it since he arrived. "I gave her a flower from Granny's garden and it made her sneeze. It was funny."

There's a hint of amusement in the way he tells the story. It's not the bright-eyed bubbliness she's used to, but it's the most _Roland_ he's sounded since Robin's funeral.

"I'll have to tell your papa about it. Maybe if we see her scrunch up her nose, like she's going to sneeze again, we can take a picture, and send it to him."

"I can send him something, too, right?" he asks, pulling back at last and looking up at her.

"Of course, sweetheart. How about you make him a card? You can draw a picture for him, and then I'll help you write whatever you want on it."

He perks up at the idea, grins just a little, just enough for the dimples to appear, and it sends her heart flying.

Throughout the weekend, Regina makes sure to take as many pictures as she can, so she has plenty to choose from when she heads back to New York and has them printed. There's a few she'll definitely be getting double copies of, like the one she took of Henry and Roland feeding the ducks at the pond, or the one Henry took of Roland making silly faces at her and Regina laughing at them. There are a few they all pose for together, and she thinks Robin might like those a lot, with her and the baby and the boys all on her couch, smiling at the camera.

Roland's reading lesson proves to be a lot less complicated than she expected. He's a bright boy, and picks things up quickly, his desire to communicate with his father spurring him on.

His card is a drawing of the forest, with a squiggly round figure she can only assume is John, holding a very strange-looking crossbow on one hand and waving with the other. Roland is sitting on a tree branch, his little figure sporting a huge smile on its face. Regina writes I LOVE YOU, PAPA! in dotted lines for him to trace, and he moves a blue marker from one dot to the other with rapt concentration, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he focuses solely on "writing" his message.

* * *

Throughout the weekend, Regina sees Zelena only once. She takes the baby to the farmhouse, and asks her sister why she's been leaving her with the Charmings instead of, well, parenting her.

"I'm tired, sis," Zelena says with a sigh, "I just needed some time. And having the pirate and those annoying heros breathing down my neck doesn't exactly allow for a... relaxing atmosphere."

"It's been two weeks, Zelena," Regina admonishes as she rocks the baby in her arms. "I understand things are tough for you right now, but that doesn't mean you get to just abandon your child and—"

"I did not abandon her!" Zelena cuts in. "I just needed a few days off. Surely as a mother yourself you can understand that?"

Something's off about the way she speaks. Regina can't really pinpoint what, but it's there.

She drops it, though, doesn't touch upon the subject again and watches as her sister coos at the baby and runs the back of her hand over one rosy cheek. She really doesn't seem to have any ulterior motives to her absence. Maybe the odd quality to Zelena's tone is just a sign of how tired she is.

Still, Regina makes it a point to remind her the Charmings aren't the enemy. That they're just trying to help.

"They stalk me! The other day prince vanilla over there followed me for two hours while I was walking in the woods. He thought I couldn't see him but he was louder than I was when I gave birth. Honestly, you'd think he'd know to avoid crunching leaves when he's spying on people."

"Zelena," Regina warns as she gives the baby her pacifier when she starts to fuss. "The only reason they're keeping an eye on you is because I asked them to. Because I know that detoxing from life as a villain is hard, and you need someone to stop you if you decide to delve into your wicked magic arsenal again. If you hate these restrictions, then you take it out on me, not them. And certainly not your daughter."

"I wasn't taking it out on her at all, was I, sweetpea?" she diverts her attention to baby Robin, taking her from Regina's arms and into hers, keeping the rocking motion to avoid disturbing her. "Mummy just needed some time to get proper sleep."

Regina tries not to miss the warm weight of the baby in her arms. Tries to stop herself from longing to hold her just a little while longer, and forces herself to focus on the matter at hand.

"Regardless. All they're doing is helping me. And they're family, too. You'd do well to remember that. Please just... tell me you'll behave?"

Zelena rolls her eyes and huffs, looking more like herself now, and Regina raises her eyebrow, waits for her sister's annoyed nod and exasperated _Fine_ , before she leaves. It's a full moon tonight, so she knows Ruby will be wandering through the woods in wolf form tonight, guarding the farmhouse. The baby will be well protected.

* * *

When they head back to New York on Sunday, the drive is blessedly quick, and they arrive just in time for Regina to run to the drugstore and have some pictures printed.

After ordering dinner, she tucks the photos into an envelope, (she's gone a little overboard this time, and there are too many to just toss them into the book), and sends that along, then sits down to write her letter. She has time to write, Regina reasons, while Robin looks through all the printed images, so she tries to make the letter special, includes as many details as she can.

She thinks about adding some flirtatious comments, something that might make him write more of those sensual paragraphs she'd enjoyed so much, but figures it's probably not the best idea, not when she's including a card made by his son in the letter.

She'll have to write him something else later. But for now, this is good, this is enough. Robin will love it, she's sure he will, and when she places the letter inside the book, Roland's card safely tucked into the folded page, she's already impatient for his answer.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Hi! Me again._**

 ** _This gets porny, hope ya like it.  
_**

* * *

He really needs to stop crying whenever Regina sends him something regarding his children.

It's like a dam bursts every single time he sees their faces.

This time it's no different.

In fact, it's even worse. Because not only are there well over twenty pictures of his beautiful baby girl and his wonderful son, there is also a card from Roland.

The bright yellow cardboard paper (so easily recognizable to Robin, after months of seeing Roland's artwork on similar material), falls out of the folded letter he receives from Regina just a few minutes after he dives into the envelope loaded with photos.

The first thing that strikes him is how much his boy's drawings have changed. It's no longer composed of the squigglies and misshapen doodles of a toddler, but of more proper proportions and a firmer tracing. Childlike, yes, but coherent. Roland is growing up. And he's missing it.

The boy's coloring is still wildly outside the lines, though, and somehow that little fact is a comfort to Robin. Reminds him there's still time.

He runs a finger over the big I LOVE YOU, PAPA! written on the card, chuckles at the figure of what he can only assume is Roland himself, perched on a tree branch while a distorted stick-figure version of John waves with one hand and holds his trusty crossbow in the other.

Regina's letter is all about her visit to Storybrooke, full of anecdotes of her time spent with the children, and Robin drinks in every single word, thanks the gods for how thorough she is in her telling. Between her detailed descriptions and the pictures she's sent, he can almost feel like he's there, living the moments she recounts in her writing.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I assume you'll still be looking through pictures when you get this, so I hope they've made you happy._

 _Your letter to Roland was beautiful. We read it together (he's been adamant that I teach him to read with your letters, so we started our lessons this weekend). We both shed a few tears, but it helped him so much. After we read it his mood improved considerably. He even made apple turnovers with me, and sang the Jungle Book song while we mixed ingredients together. It's like he's starting to believe in happiness again, and it's all because of your words._

 _He's included a little gift for you, and says he's expecting another letter next weekend. He and John are making a list of all the dishes you should learn to make, and I think I saw the words "Chocolate souffle" in there. Something tells me you'll be regretting those cooking classes very soon._

 _Roland also wanted me to tell you that he loves you all the way to the stars, and that he'll take care of me, like you asked. You really shouldn't have, Robin. He's so young, he doesn't need to live with the burden of making sure I'm okay. That said, I could never say no to a hug from that beautiful boy, and I received several of them over the last couple of days, so thank you for that._

 _He told me the baby sneezed when he gave her a flower last week, and all weekend we tried to get a picture of her sneezing (it really is the most adorable thing, her little nose scrunches up the tiniest bit and she looks so much like you when you smell the red pepper flakes I use on my lasagna), but we weren't so lucky. Not that we're making her sneeze on purpose or anything, but the couple of times she did it, we weren't fast enough to snap the photo. Maybe next weekend._

 _She's a beauty, Robin. I had her with me all weekend and she is an absolute angel. Nothing like Henry when he was her age. I love my son to death but I still remember the screams when he cried in the middle of the night, and the migraines I used to get when I couldn't get him to settle down for the night. Your daughter is nothing like that. She can sleep through anything, that one, just like her father, except she doesn't snore or hog the blankets on cold nights like you do._

 _She's such a happy baby, too. Always curious and smiling when we play with her. She's got Granny and your men all wrapped around her finger, and loves being the center of attention. Mind you, John's singing is still the one thing that calms her down when she's fussy. I've sang to her, like I promised you I would, but I'm afraid I can't compete with Uncle John's screechy renditions of Disney songs (he's been learning them for her). It's a joy to just sit back and watch her enjoy herself, though, so I can't say I mind that she prefers John over me for this. He even dances to the more upbeat songs, and Robin makes that typical baby sound that's half-scream, half-laughter and kicks her little feet when he does it..._

 _Speaking of Robin, I've been thinking it might be good to give her a middle name, before this namesake thing becomes confusing. Let me know if you're okay with the idea, and if you have any names in mind._

 _I'll have you know Roland is taking his big brother duties very seriously. He feeds her whenever he's allowed, and plays with her to keep her calm when the adults are busy. He even joins John in singing to her sometimes, and I can see how much he enjoys it. He loves making her laugh, and has already declared that he's going to teach her how to shoot an arrow when she's old enough to hold a bow._

 _He and Henry have been bonding a lot during their weekends together. It's wonderful that they get along so well. Henry was always a bit of a loner, and I know that that's mostly because of who I was, and because he didn't want to show me he was close to anyone, for fear I would hurt them. But even before he knew, even when I was just Mommy and not the Evil Queen, he always had a hard time making friends, always kept to himself. For so long it was just the two of us, and it was good, most of the time, but I'm so glad he has siblings now. He loves being a big brother to Roland and Robin, and that only makes me that much more grateful that you chose me— us. That you continue to choose us, even through all this._

 _I trust you've found ways to keep your repeating days interesting. I would probably lose my mind if I had to do the same thing over and over again for a whole year. Tell me what you've been up to._

 _The drive back was blessedly uneventful (a complete contrast to our trip there, I'll tell you that much), but Henry's very tired, so we're going to watch a movie on the couch and have an early bedtime._

 _The best part will be crossing off yet another day on the calendar before I go to sleep._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

Robin sends his reply the following day, where he lets her know, among other things, that he'll try to find the spot in the park where she battled the chalice, just to see what's left.

Sipping his coffee, he goes through the photos yet again, and it occurs to him, as he looks at shot after shot of his beautiful family, that even through the pain of their too many separations, and all the obstacles they've had to endure, he still gets this. Still gets to come home to them when this is all over, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He is one lucky bastard.

* * *

Regina's comment about his repeating days stays with him, and he decides he really does have to figure out better ways to pass the time.

Two days later, he takes a different route to the Capparellis', acquaints himself with all the shops on the alternate path, and even counts the steps to get to and from the bakery.

Surprisingly, this new way is faster, and he makes a mental note of it, resolute to use it more often.

The next morning, he leaves bright and early for Central Park, and investigates the area where Regina mentioned her battle with the chalice happened. Sure enough, there's an oak stump in the cluster of trees near Belvedere castle, the wood blackened and broken, with nothing growing around it.

Robin runs his fingers over the stump, surprised at the glittery quality of the jet-black cinders that stain the surface, but then, this tree had been burned by magic, so he shouldn't be surprised that the result is different than the many logs and twigs he's made fires with in his lifetime.

The reality of what he's seeing sinks in then. This is really happening. Slowly but surely, their worlds are connecting, their timelines converging. It makes hope flare anew, makes him all the more eager to be back with Regina, with his family, and enjoy every second of the rest of his life at their side.

Two days after that, he buys a rather large assortment of picture frames, and spends his afternoon decorating the apartment with the photos he's received from Regina since their correspondence started. He also buys a small metal box, and places all her letters inside it, keeping them safe on his bedside table to read whenever he misses her.

That night, Robin dreams of her, dreams of her tempting curves and the petal-like softness of her skin. He dreams of her lips, of the way she gasps when he touches her, of how her body arches into his every kiss and touch...

When he wakes at 4AM, with his cock hard and aching for her warmth, he writes to her. Tells her about his dream, about what he wants to do to her. She's shown interest in these letters before, so Robin is unabashed in his desire...

 _Dear Regina,_

 _It's just past four in the morning, and I've just woken from the best dream I've had in a long time. Also the most frustrating, because I get to wake up to the reality of not having you with me in order to continue the very... interesting moment we had going in my imagination._

 _We were back in your vault, but it wasn't our first time, it was... later. Your hair was shorter for some reason, but it was beautiful as ever, all splayed out on the pillow. You were stunning, Regina. My hands were exploring you. The memory of it is so vivid I can almost feel the texture of your skin even now._

 _You know what I miss the most lately? How warm you are. The heat of your body when I get you good and riled. That pink flush on your chest and cheeks when I toy with your nipples._

 _You gasped my name in the dream, and it was... gods, I miss hearing that sound. I miss those little moans you can't help but let out when I swirl my tongue just above your sex. You once said I did that to torture you, and the truth is I did, but only because I love hearing your reaction. That frustrated whine that you give me right before I finally lick where you want me is exquisite._

 _The taste of you is intoxicating, Regina. Nothing gets me harder than when you kiss me right after I've made you come with my mouth, and you whimper at the taste of yourself on my tongue. I can't wait for us to be together so I can have that again, and again and again._

 _I hope you don't think me too forward in writing this letter. You seemed to like the last one, and I need you, so this is the best I can do for now. It's torture knowing you are in the same bed I am every night, but I can't reach you, can't touch you, can't kiss that little hidden birthmark on your hip that I love. Can't hold you or make you come with my fingers and my mouth and my cock._

 _I miss the warmth of you, I miss feeling you run hot while you ride me, and the slight blast of cold air when you swoop down to kiss me. I miss the heat of your hands on my chest when you brace yourself to roll your hips faster atop me. And gods, do I ever miss how hot and wet and wonderful you feel wrapped around me. Nothing compares, Regina. Nothing._

 _So here I am, rubbing myself to the thought of you in the middle of the night, missing every inch of you and wanting to make you come so badly I can't think straight. Is this as bad for you as it is for me? Have you... and please, forgive my forwardness, but... have you thought about me like this? After the last letter you never said, and I'm curious as to what you miss. Do you miss my mouth on you? My hands? Do you miss our nights locked up in your vault with you screaming my name while I took you?_

 _Tell me your desires, Regina._

 _Always yours,_

 _Robin._

True to his word, he finishes rubbing it out to the fantasy of her, recalling images from his dream and mixing them with the memories he harbors of their times together.

There's one particular memory, from one of the many times they did it in Camelot. It was like they couldn't get enough of each other (Robin's fairly certain he could never, ever, get enough of her), and the desperate slapping of their skin echoes in his ears as he pictures it. He closes his eyes and pictures his cock moving in and out of her, her little shouts of _Oh!_ and _Yes!_ a sensual symphony to accompany his panting and groaning as he moves his hand faster over his shaft, thumb pressing over the tip the way Regina's does when she has him like this.

When he comes, it's with a cry of her name, and he slumps back into the pillows, his bare belly sticky with the residue of his little stunt. Robin reaches for the baby wipes he keeps on the drawer of the night table, cleans himself off and then just lies there, staring at the ceiling until the first rays of dawn start to evaporate the darkness around him.

By 7AM, he's out the door and on his way to get groceries.

* * *

Back in the Enchanted Forest, he'd gather food by hunting it, harvesting it, and storing large portions of it for the winter. Out of all the conveniences of this world, supermarkets are probably his favorite. Not that there weren't markets in the Enchanted Forest, but they were never quite like this, so full of strange (and oftentimes delicious) things to try, teeming with concoctions the likes of which he never would've dreamed of.

He's become quite fond of peanut butter cups, despite having hated peanut butter when he'd first tried it, and he throws a bag into his little cart with a practiced move of his hand. He stocks up on ingredients for quick meals, like hot dogs and pasta, but also gets vegetables and meat and chicken, intent on trying out more recipes from this world.

He buys coffee, and cream and sugar to go with it, and then grabs a chocolate bar by the cashier just before he pays for his things.

It's a rather large amount of bags, and it's difficult for him to climb up the stairs to the apartment. More than once, he trips, but catches himself before anything falls out.

And then he reaches his floor, and huffs out a frustrated breath.

He's lived here before, with his "wife" and his child, so he's certain if some of the neighbors get a good look at him, they will recognize him and ask questions about his sudden departure. He could lie, say he got divorced and his son is off with his mother somewhere, craft some sort of deception that will keep them off his case, but it feels cheap to do so, especially when Marian was never herself to begin with. And in a life that resets every day, he'd have to give that explanation every time he's recognized, even if it's by the same person. Robin isn't sure he can handle that.

This is why he's been trying to keep a low profile. If he's going out, he does so before or after the mid-morning rush, and doesn't return until after lunch. But in his befuddled state over that dream, he's forgotten, and now he's come home to peak activity. The neighbors he's been trying to avoid are moving in and out and about, two of them staring as he struggles with his bags while he walks to his door.

Finally, he angrily sets the bags on the floor to better fish his keys out of his pocket.

"You know, we don't bite," a female trill says from the right, and Robin turns to find its owner. She's about his age, he'd wager. Blonde and pretty, with large blue eyes and an easy smile. The door of the apartment just behind her is open, so he assumes that's where she's come from. He doesn't remember seeing her when he last lived here. She must have moved in after he left.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"You look like you're desperate to get out of sight," she says, gesturing towards the bags on the floor.

"Oh. I'm just... in a bit of a rush," he lies, turning back to the lock and putting his key in.

As he's turning it, the woman speaks again.

"I'm Caroline," she says, extending a hand to him. Both his hands are a little busy, though, as he's twisting the knob with one while he turns the key with the other, so he nods at her instead, offers a kind smile and his name.

Her hand doesn't move.

In fact, she waits there, patiently, while he opens his door and deposits his key back in his jacket pocket, and grins when he awkwardly shakes it at last.

She doesn't say anything else, merely crouches down to gather one of the many bags still on the floor, and walks herself into his place while he's left behind, staring at her and dumbfounded by her actions.

"Uh..." is all he says, and she laughs good-naturedly, waves him off with one hand, and gives him a flirty _You're welcome_ that he feels forced to complement with a sheepish _Thanks._

"So... lived here long?" she asks, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.

It's only then that Robin notices her attire.

She's in shorts. Very tiny ones in light blue denim, a white shirt that seems one size too small on her hugging her figure as she stands there, one leg crossed over the other, her flip-flop hanging off her foot from the plastic strap between her toes. Casual, comfortable. Too comfortable.

This is inappropriate. She shouldn't be here.

"I, um, not long, no," he stammers. "Thank you for the help," he says again, "I'm should be fine now."

She smiles, nods her head, and then she just... doesn't leave.

"I moved in about ten months ago and this is the first time I've seen you," she insists.

"I suppose we've just never coincided," he excuses, one nervous hand flying to the back of his neck and rubbing there.

"Guess I'll have to keep an eye out now. Maybe run into you again," she tells him. And why is she blinking repeatedly like that?

"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" he asks, letting his mild concern show in his tone, so as not to seem too forward. To his surprise, she blushes, and the blinking stops.

"I'm fine. I'll see you around... Robin." Her voice goes soft when she says his name. Delicate. Like she's interested in— _oh_.

She's... she's interested in him. That wasn't blinking, that was... she was trying to wink.

This woman is trying to seduce him. He can't believe he didn't recognize it before.

Regina can't wink to save her life. He's teased her for it, then kissed away her grouchy mood and assured her he finds her unsuccessful attempts endearing. And he does, he truly does. Her nose wrinkles just slightly, lips pursed prettily as she tries —and fails— to bat a seductive eye at him when they come up for air between kisses. It's adorable.

Caroline's failed wink is not adorable.

In fact, now that he sees it for what it is, it only makes him shudder as he shuts the door behind her.

For once, he's thankful for this repetitive loop he lives in. At least he won't have to worry about this when he wakes up tomorrow.

Robin grabs the bag of peanut butter cups (it's too early for chocolate, but he figures a couple of bites won't hurt), and slowly munches on the treats as he ponders the bizarre events he was just part of.

By the time he receives the now customary call from Mr. Capparelli about the oven, the bag is empty.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Y'all wanted to see how Regina responds to that sexy letter from chapter 12? Read on to find out!_**

* * *

Regina wakes up to Robin's reply to her photos and weekend stories, and her eyes soften as she opens the letter and begins to read. Her morning coffee is in her hand, and she takes the occasional sip (she imagines Robin must be doing the same right about now) as she reads over his words.

Henry doesn't usually read the letters, only asks her to tell him about them when she receives one. But he walks in just as she's finishing it, sits beside her and munches on a poptart, and so Regina reads out loud for him.

 _"Dear Regina,_

 _The photos have indeed made me very happy. Thank you for sending them, I haven't stopped looking at them. I see some of these look like Henry's work, are they not? He really should pursue this. He's quite talented, your son."_

She stops reading to throw Henry a proud smile, and he shifts awkwardly beside her, smiling back as the tips of his ears turn pink.

"Don't be embarrassed, you truly are good at it," she tells him.

"Thanks, mom," he replies, and then pops the last bite of poptart into his mouth as she continues.

 _"I love that you're teaching Roland how to read, and I'm so glad my letter helped him accept this situation a bit better. I'll admit it, his card made me cry. I miss him so much, and I hate that he's growing up without me. It's a comfort to know he misses me, too, though, and that you're there for him, being the loving mother he needs._

 _I will gladly keep writing to him, especially if it means he'll be learning to read through my words. But do tell him not to let his uncle John persuade him into putting strange dishes on that list they're making. And tell John I am not his housemaid and will most definitely not be making him a chocolate souffle. In fact, I won't be making him anything. I will cook for my son, and my son alone. John can make do with Granny's chocolate pie."_

The next paragraph feels a bit awkward for her to read out loud, because in it, Robin talks about her vulnerability, something she's never been good at showing to others. But Henry is paying close attention to every word, she can't very well stop now. So instead, Regina swallows thickly, takes a deep breath, and continues.

 _"I'm glad Roland is taking my request to heart. I know he's young, Regina, and I know you don't like it when others worry about you and want to take care of you, but I also know that you need it. Henry is doing a marvelous job of watching over you in New York. You've told me yourself you wouldn't be able to do this without him—"_

"Is that true? You told him that?" Henry asks mid-read.

Regina nods, and then feels her son's arm wrap around her shoulders. She has to take several breaths to keep the tears at bay. It's true, she would never be able to get through this without her little prince.

She continues reading, ignoring the slightly broken pitch to her voice as she goes.

 _"You've told me yourself you wouldn't be able to do this without him. I want Roland to be there for you, too. He loves you, as does Henry. It doesn't hurt to have our two boys looking after you."_

Something warm and glowy swells in her chest, the way it always does when he refers to the children as 'theirs'.

 _"I must say, milady, I am quite baffled by your accusations. I do not hog the bed covers, nor do I snore—"_

"Oh, please, he totally does," Henry interrupts. "Remember that night I spent over at the camp, after I got my memories back and found out you were dating? I couldn't sleep because Robin was sawing logs like crazy. Roland complains about it all the time, too. And John and Tuck."

Regina laughs at that, nods her head in agreement, and conspires, "We should record him when he comes back, and show him. See if he dares refute our claims then."

Her son chuckles, tells her that sounds like a great plan, and then urges her to keep reading.

 _"—but that's an argument for another time. For now, let me just say I quite enjoy all these little details you give me, all these stories about my children, and your lives. I'd love to see the baby sneezing, so let's hope you get to catch that picture sooner or later._

 _I cannot, for the life of me, understand why she likes John's singing so much, but I guess if it helps calm her down when she's fussy, it's a good thing. Who knew those high-pitched wails of his would become a baby-charming superpower? And watching him dance must be quite funny, as well. I look forward to mocking him for that._

 _You'll be surprised to hear my days are quite different from each other. This city is so big, there's always something to see, even on the same day. I understand what you mean, though. That call from Mr. Capparelli to tell me about his broken oven is becoming a nuisance at this point._

 _I keep comparing this repetitive loop to what you told me you experienced during the first curse, but if I remember correctly, you said your days back then were routinary, but still consecutive, so there were some variations in what was going on around you. I've been trying to understand the differences, and it seems to me it's as if there was a general outline that Storybrooke would follow during the curse, but it would be executed just a little bit differently every day. Here, the outline is very detailed and followed to the letter, every minute of every hour of every (or rather, the same) day. I don't know if that makes much sense, but it's the best way I can think of to describe it. It's not exactly something I enjoy, seeing everything repeat, but I will take it if it means i get to hug you when this year is out.  
_

 _I have a mind to go to the park soon and find the place where you fought that wretched cup, since, as I've told you before, I'm curious to see if there's anything left of it. And of course, those cooking classes will most likely provide me with endless things to fret about... at least until I am a master at making whatever dish they'll be teaching every day for the next year._

 _It thrills me to know our children are having fun together, despite the strange situation we find ourselves in. Roland once told me Henry is the 'bestest' big brother ever, and I'm glad to hear he's taking after him and watching out for his baby sister. All these pictures of them together have made me smile bigger than I have in days. We're lucky, don't you think? To have such a beautiful family together?_

 _You say you're grateful that I continue to choose you and Henry even with all this. But what you have to understand, Regina, is that this choice isn't some sacrifice I'm making..."_

She stops reading there, warmth flooding her face at the heartfelt words she sees next. She lets Henry read those on his own, reads them silently again herself while she waits for his reaction.

 _I do it because you are where my heart leads. I would choose you a thousand times over, my love, and you needn't be grateful for that. I consider myself fortunate to be the one you chose to open your heart to, after all you've been through. Whatever I did to deserve you, I'm happy I did it._

"He's really in love with you, isn't he?" Her son finally says, and Regina turns to look at him with watery eyes.

"Yes. Yes, he is," she confirms, surprised by how easy it is to accept it now, without her self-loathing whispering in her ear that she isn't worthy. Her emotions have her choking up, though, so she lets Henry read out the rest.

 _"You're right about my daughter needing a middle name," he continues. "As honored as I am that she carries my name, I do find myself often referring to her as 'the baby' rather than 'Robin'. I was thinking maybe we could name her Elizabeth, after my mother. People called her Bess for short, and I've always liked it. What do you think? Let me know in your reply._

 _All my love,_

 _Robin._

"Elizabeth... Bess," Regina tries out the name, looking to Henry for comment.

"Beats 'Robin' and 'Baby' for sure," he shrugs.

"I'll talk to Zelena next time we go home."

"Why?" Henry asks, looking genuinely puzzled.

"She's her mother," Regina explains, and Henry huffs in reply, making her raise an eyebrow at him.

"Don't get mad, okay?" he warns before giving her his honest opinion. "I just... don't think Zelena should get a say on what name the baby has... or anything regarding the baby, actually."

"Henry," she begins, but he shakes his head, stops her.

"No, mom. Last time I checked, Zelena hasn't really been doing the mom thing, not like you do. The baby is always with grandma and grandpa, or with Little John or Granny, but never with Zelena."

"I discussed that with her, she said she'd try to do better. That's all we can ask of her, Henry. You know how hard it was for me to redeem myself, we can't expect her to do it overnight."

"I know that, but the difference is that you had a reason, mom. You loved me enough to want to change, you cared about wanting to be a better person for me. All Zelena does is stay out on her own and not spend time with the baby. If she doesn't care about her like we do then she shouldn't be her mom. She should give her her best chance, and leave her with you."

His words strike a chord in her, have her frown softening into a teary, sad smile as she wraps an arm around her son's shoulders and hugs him to her, tucking him against her side and dropping a kiss to the side of his head, resting her own just on top as she tries her best to explain.

"I understand how you feel, I do," she tells him. "But Zelena is trying, and that's all we can really ask of her right now. She's my sister, I have to believe she'll be better if I just give her the chance."

Her son huffs again. He seems to accept her explanation, but wars with her anyway.

"After everything she's done, I don't think she deserves that chance."

"You still gave it to me after everything _I_ did. Why is it different now?"

"You _wanted_ your chance, mom," he insists. "You took it. Zelena hasn't, and fine, I get your point, but if she doesn't step up and get her act together soon, she never will, and I don't think little Rob— Bess should grow up miserable just because her mom doesn't love her enough to change. She should have a mother that loves and cares like you do."

He has a point, and Regina cannot deny it. As much as she'd like to believe that Zelena is on her way to redemption, she also knows that Henry makes a very valid argument. The baby should not suffer her mother's lack of willpower. She should have stability, should live in a home where everything she needs is provided for her, including love and nurturing and human affection. She shouldn't be passed around from babysitter to babysitter and rotate between the Merry Men's camp, Snow's loft, and Granny's Diner simply because Zelena couldn't be bothered to tend to her.

"Okay," she sighs, "I promise to keep a better eye on Zelena and... guide her if I see that she needs it, but in return, you have to promise me you won't be so hard on her."

Henry seems appeased by that, nods his agreement, and the subject is dropped for now.

* * *

She's surprised to find a new letter from Robin inside the book the next morning. More so when she realizes the type of letter it is. To avoid the agonizing embarrassment of Henry catching her with one of these again, she locks herself up in her room just as she hears him moving about his, and lays down in bed, using her pillow to prop her head up to read.

His words blaze a trail of fire inside her, igniting parts of her only known to his lips and his touch, parts she longs to feel him explore again. Her body misses him almost as much as her soul.

He's bolder this time, more confident in expressing his desires, and she drinks up every single word, picturing in vivid detail all the things he speaks of. He misses her warmth, he says, and mentions a birthmark that Regina can't help but touch over her robe as she reads about it.

And then her hand ventures lower, and memories of their many times in Camelot invade her mind, paired with imagery of the fantasy he's describing, and her body runs hotter, her hand even lower, until it ventures under the hem of her short robe, fingers thumbing along her underwear.

He desires her. There's this primal, yet touching quality to the way he tells her what he wants, his desperation echoing her own as she imagines and remembers and feels.

She's added memories of her vault now, of the few times they stole away to sate their thirst for each other, unbeknownst to everyone else until they'd returned looking very disheveled and very unapologetic about it.

She thinks of his lips, of his tongue and its many talents, and suddenly her hand is toying with her clit, circling slowly as it spreads the wetness already gathering there, her other hand gripping the letter a little tighter, slightly wrinkling the paper.

He misses the sounds she makes, he says, and the way she'd ride him, he misses making her come with his mouth, and her reaction when she tastes herself on him. She wants him, misses the way he'd fill her, stretch her, until he'd be buried to the hilt, snug and hard and perfect inside her.

"Robin," she whispers wantonly as she lets one finger pump inside her, then adds another, a slow in-and-out while she keeps her thumb pressing into her clit. She has a vibrator at the mansion, one he'd used on her once, and she makes a mental note to bring it here on her next trip. If these letters continue, there's no way she'll make it 'til next year with just her hand, not when he's describing how much he likes to make her come, not when he's telling her he stayed up last night pleasuring himself to the thought of her.

It's bold, and raunchy, and something that would surely make her blush with embarrassment if she wasn't so turned on by it, if she wasn't dying to feel every single one of those things he wants to do to her. Her back arches off the bed just thinking about his lips sucking where she's currently rubbing, of his fingers pumping into her instead of her own...

She comes with a strangled cry on a particularly sharp press of her thumb over her clit, and is left panting and tingling on her bed, her body humming after her release.

She reads the letter again one more time after she's washed up, feels a faint echo of arousal stirring at the words on the page... and then she gets to the very last line, and nerves erupt in her.

 _Tell me your desires,_ it says. It's a clear invitation for her to write one of these back to him, but she's tried it before, and knows she can't do it, she just can't. She's not shy, not with Robin, but Regina has never been good at communicating her wants and needs, least of all through writing. Words don't come as easily to her as they do to him, and she's sure whatever she writes will pale in comparison to what he's said. That is, if she can ever get around to actually writing how much she wants him.

Her eyes scan the room... more as something to do than because she expects to find an answer to her current predicament, but that answer finds her anyway, when her gaze stops on the box she'd had Henry stash in her closet, shoved into the corner.

It's a box of old items from Robin's time here, items she hadn't had the heart or energy to look through before, but it catches her interest now. The lens of an old Polaroid peeks out from under the haphazardly placed lid, and for once, she's is grateful for Robin's mild obsession with the technologies of this world.

After breakfast is finished and Henry leaves for school, Regina sighs, pushing down her nerves as she grabs the camera and loses her robe, the soft fabric sliding off her skin and pooling at her feet.

Here goes nothing.


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey all!_

 _I promise I've been trying very hard to keep the updates on this story consistent, but work has kept me incredibly busy and I also got caught up writing other OQ fics, which I hope you have read and enjoyed as well._

 _Anyway, as I have no big fic projects in sight, I think I might be able to focus on this story for a while and get you more regular updates._

 _Happy reading and, as always, let me know what you think!  
_

* * *

 _Dear Robin,_

 _A picture's worth a thousand words, right?_

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

The cryptic little note arrives on its own, tucked into the book with nothing else that would explain its meaning, and Robin is confused for a bit, staring at Regina's loopy scrawl and wondering what she's up to.

A few minutes later, though, the book suddenly looks thicker, the block of its pages bulked up by the envelope wedged between them. He grabs it and brings it to the kitchen table, where he's been drinking his morning coffee while pondering about the note.

And then he sees what's inside, and chokes on a sip of the dark roast swirling in his cup, the pictures plopping all over the table, one more baffling than the next.

Skin.

So much skin.

All of it Regina's. All of it beautiful. All of it naked for his hungry eyes to devour.

They're tasteful, the pictures. Elegant in a way. There's eleven total, and they're all so stunning he can't pick a favorite.

First, he thinks it's the one where she's biting her lip, the frame stopping just below her glorious breasts. Then, he believes he might prefer the one of her naked torso, nipples pert and ready for his attentions, or the one of her lower body, with her thighs rubbing together, one knee bent up on the bed. Oh, but then he sees the one where she has a hand on her waist, fingers digging into her skin, and he thinks maybe that's the one he likes most.

On and on it goes. There's one of her lying on her stomach on the bed. Her face isn't visible, and the angle is a tad awkward, but her delectable rear is on full display for his perusal, and that, Robin thinks, that might be the one he prefers above the others.

But then there's another of her, with a little smirk he feels a sudden urge to kiss, the arm not holding the camera placed strategically over her chest. The frame spans all the way down to her thighs, so while her arm keeps her breasts from view, he can see the rest of her, can see that goddamn birthmark by her hip he's desperate to lick, can see the neatly trimmed line of little hairs that leads to where his mouth and his cock both worship.

There's another photo, one taken while she was on her back on the bed, legs bent up at the knees, her feet flat on the mattress. The camera is at the top of the bed, giving him Regina's own viewpoint of her body, and he remembers just how good it feels when those legs open and he settles between them, flicking his tongue over the parts of her that drive her wild.

Another picture is of all of her, standing before the full length mirror of the bedroom closet, wearing that wine-colored silk underwear set he likes so much, the black lace trim contrasting beautifully against her skin. She wore that for him, he just knows she did.

Robin abandons his coffee, and heads to the bedroom, sits in bed as he sifts through the pictures, finding yet another that might be his favorite. It's just her face, just her eyes and neck and chest, the frame cutting before anything else is shown, but the tousled hair, that pouty lower lip he wants to bite into, her dark eyes, full of mystery and seduction and love as they always are, and the expression she's giving him, the way it conveys just how much she wants him in that moment... it's all just unbelievably sexy.

His hand is on his cock then, rubbing over his pants as he stares at her, and a few minutes later he's in the shower, beating off to the images now burned into his memory as delicious little treats. They're all strewn over his bed safe and dry, while his mind flits from one to the other, each photo serving to make him harder, warmer...

He's coming and panting her name as he spills into his own hand, missing her more than ever as he allows himself a minute's reprieve to calm his hurried breathing, letting the hot water wash off his release.

When he comes out of the bathroom, he stares at them again, simply because he can. Simply because he's been so starved for her that he can't help but look and look and look once more, remembering her taste and her smell and the sounds she makes when he touches her.

Robin never thought he'd love someone like this. He'd loved Marian deeply, yes. He supposes, in a way, he'll always love Marian, but with Regina it's... more. He believes now it has to do with their souls being entwined as they are, and he doesn't really care to find out the proper explanation, all he knows is that he feels so strongly for her, feels so _much_ , that love is too small a word for it.

And yet it will have to do, he thinks, as he sits down and scribbles it repeatedly at the very top of his next letter.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

 _You are exquisite, and I'm... speechless. You've no idea how much I want you, how much I miss your body and your lips and your touch._

 _I've realized, though, that I've put you on the spot by asking you for a reply. And yes, a picture's definitely worth a thousand words, and I have 11,000 words' worth of you in my hands at the moment, but I apologize if I was too forward in asking for you to respond in kind to my letter._

 _However, I will say that thinking of you like this had left me with a very... hard problem, and these stunning pictures have helped very much._

 _You're quite the temptress, you know that? Showing me all that skin when I can't kiss it or feel it under my fingers._

 _My only comfort is that in 345 days, you'll be mine again._

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

* * *

On and on it goes over the next few weeks. They write their usual letters, but then he also writes to her about his fantasies, about the things he wants to do to her, and she responds with a cheeky comment or two. In most of her replies, he's treated to a photo of her, either naked or clad in underwear that has his desire flaming white-hot and desperate inside him, his cock hardening at the mere sight of her.

He's moved the letters to an old chest that decorates the living room, and has left the little box he'd bought for them as the dwelling place for the racy pictures he can't help but look over every night. Sometimes he does it as he pumps his cock and imagines his tongue running over all that skin, others he looks just because he can.

She's gorgeous. Bloody perfect. And he cannot help but feel just a little smug at the idea that she keeps doing this for him. Taking these mouthwatering images just for his enjoyment.

He's never had a more prized possession.

But not all is fun and dirty games.

His days are full of newly discovered marvels, but also full of chores and things to do. His cooking classes have become a nuisance, seeing as having his timeline on loop means they make the same dish every single time he goes. He's perfected chicken parm at this point, and no longer sees the need to attend that one and only lesson.

Instead, he's taken to walking the city. Some days he stops by markets and restaurants, observing and learning, asking questions about spices and vegetables, picking up on cooking tips from sellers and chefs he meets on these outings. Robin's also taken to finding good restaurants through the Internet (he'd required Mrs. Capparelli's help to learn to use it, embarrassing as it was, but he's picked up enough to manage it by now), and then trying to recreate the dishes he sees on their menus.

It's not the best way to pass the time, but it keeps him entertained.

He's lost count of how many times he's fixed the oven at the Capparellis, and of how many times he's bought the same groceries on sale, walked the park, seen the little girl with the two braids throw a frisbee at her brother (he's also lost count of how many times he's been resentful and jealous of their father as he stands nearby to watch and cheer his children on)...

It's monotonous, and dull, made bright only by the letters from Regina that he gets to read at night, letters that tell him of her far more interesting days, full of motherhood mishaps and the daily challenges of raising a teenage boy, full of wonder at the new things she uncovers with the passage of time, a luxury he's no longer allowed.

Not that he thinks she's having a better time than he is. They're both miserable, the distance and the not-being-able-to-hold-each-other of it all wears on them both, and he can see her frustration shine through in her letters, especially on days where she scrambles to give him something new to read. He's told her she needn't worry, he adores every letter, even the ones she thinks are repetitive, but Regina is stubborn, and only doubles her efforts.

Henry's taken up photography classes after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and from what Robin reads in Regina's letters, the boy seems to enjoy it immensely. He feels pride swell up in him when he's told his compliments of Henry's photos are what made him want to take up the classes in the first place.

 _He's learning so much, Robin, a letter reads, he drags me to the park every chance we get so he can play around with light and colors, and he's taken a few shots of me lately that he's very excited to send you, even though they make me feel a bit self-conscious (ironic, considering you've seen plenty of photos of me in less, but I digress), he's very interested in knowing what you think..._

Robin starts his next letter with something cheeky, a quick reply to her comment before he tells her he's really not well versed in photography, and Henry shouldn't compromise his art to please him, he should take his pictures in whatever way he enjoys it best, without worrying over whether Robin will like them or not.

 _Don't worry,_ her answer says, _Henry knows that, and he's not compromising anything, but he looks up to you, and he enjoys your comments. I like that he's so excited about it, and that he can't wait to show you whatever new shot he's managed to take of me when I'm not looking. I feel a little vulnerable knowing he can catch me at any time, but it makes him happy, so I will deal with having a few photos of me looking a mess first thing in the morning._

She's attached one of said photos to the letter, and Robin is treated to the image of her looking sleepy and disheveled, her hair a riot about her face, nose scrunched up as she looks at the camera.

 _You, milady, are stunning first thing in the morning,_ he tells her in his next letter, _so no need to worry about that. In fact, I demand that the artist begin a series of snapshots of you right after getting out of bed every single day, if only so I can look at you and feel like I'm right there, waking up by your side as I should be._

And so it goes on, with Robin marking down days on a calendar of his own making, adding little tidbits of information so that he doesn't forget, like Henry's birthday, for example, among other things.

He's taking to calling his daughter Bess, and asking after her by name, now that she has one that doesn't make for a confusing sentence. Regina seems to have adopted the name as well, and calls her Bess whenever she describes stories of her in her letters. A curious thing, though, as Regina tells him, everyone has decided to call her something different. She's Ellie to Snow and David and Emma, Lizzie to the Merry Men, Granny, Henry and Roland, and Elizabeth to Zelena (this last comment is one made in passing, seeing as Regina keeps mentions of her sister to a minimum in her letters, for which Robin is grateful).

As the weeks go by, he can tell Regina is growing frustrated with everyone's inability to stick to one nickname for his daughter, and he knows he should probably be just as ticked off about it, but for some reason, Robin can't help but find it quite funny, really.

The first real shock in his very dull like occurs when they're about 287 days away from seeing each other again.

The sun is starting to set, and he's just coming up onto Union Square, standing right under the dome of the subway station, when he hears it.

It happens too fast for his eyes to catch it, and the commotion that takes place right after stops him from seeing anything first-hand, but he hears the bone-crunching smack of something small crash against the hood of a car, hears the painful, strangled whimper of the dog just as the yellow cab makes contact... and then the whimper gets louder, its pitch a desperate, mewling thing that grates on Robin's ears and soul at the same time.

Next thing he knows, he's running towards the gaggle of people surrounding the car. He sees the cab driver pacing in short steps from one side to the other, his door still open as a woman gasps and tries to shield her son from seeing the dying animal now lying on the street.

 _No tag, it's just a stray_ , he hears someone say, and then sees a policeman trying to monitor the bit of traffic jam created by the events that have just unfolded.

The poor creature is in agony, howling and whining over and over as she tries to stand, but falls back down on her broken legs, her cries becoming more and more painful to withstand as she pants and drools and whines again.

The crowd is dispersed quickly enough, and when Robin finally gets the opportunity to approach the poor beast and try to help, he's too late, and his heart breaks a little.

She's so dirty, it's impossible to tell what her color is, but the shape of her face reminds him of Pongo's. She's a pretty thing, but spindly and covered in scabs. Her fur is short, but matted and speckled with mud, and her closed eyes are rounded with a smattering of tiny dark lashes. She'd look as if in peaceful slumber, if it wasn't for the strangely bent legs and the bit of blood coming out of her nose.

It's a bizarre thought for Robin, that this dog has been dying over and over again since Regina's magical battle stopped time. The dog won't remember it, surely. No one remembers. But something about knowing that this is happening, knowing that every day he wakes up and goes about his boring business while this innocent creature is accidentally killed, doesn't sit right with him.

Robin goes home determined, and when he stops by the grocery store on the way back from the Capparellis the next morning, he adds a new item to his cart: dog treats.


	15. Chapter 15

_Update tiiiiiiiiiime!  
_

 _As always, happy reading and let me know what you think!_

* * *

Regina has always been happy with her physical appearance. Save for that one decision to rid herself of the ability to have children, she's never been one to condemn her body (Cora did enough of that for both of them). She knows she looks good, and has used that as a weapon for a very long time. You can achieve many things when you're able to ignite desire in pretty much anyone.

But this isn't just anyone, and while she's used to being admired, she's not used to being _loved_.

Love has not been part of sex for her before, and it's new and exciting, but also nerve-wrecking. Because now sex _means_ something, and trying to convey that meaning, while also looking sexy enough in a picture of her naked body is quite the daunting task, as it turns out.

She'd stood in front of the mirror, bare and anxious. She'd posed in different ways, tried different angles until she'd learned which ones would work best, and then, before she could think better of it, she'd taken a bunch of polaroids, discarding the ones that didn't look quite as attractive as she'd hoped, and putting the rest into an envelope for Robin.

To say he'd been pleased would be an understatement.

She still blushes when she remembers his answering letter, the many _I love you_ s at the top of the page, the hunger and the flirting all jumbled up into words of love and nostalgia. She'd felt beautiful in that unique way only Robin makes her feel. Desired, treasured... missed.

They've been trading in these flirtations ever since. He'll send her one of those letters that make her blush and sweat and even moan when she's alone and lets her hand wander, and she'll send back a picture or two, either naked or in one of the underwear sets she knows he likes.

It's a wonderful arrangement, but she misses his body, too, misses looking at him.

So when his newest letter arrives, Regina sends her son to school with a kiss on the forehead and the promise to see him later for ice cream, and only opens the envelope when she's alone, determined to cheekily ask for some visual aids to the very sensual things she's sure are written on the paper now crinkling in her grasp.

She's surprised to find the letter is nothing like she expected...

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I have a bit of news._

 _You see, in the last few days, I've... made a friend of sorts. I've named her Perdita, she's a dalmatian, just like Pongo, about four years old, and I've yet to know how she wound up on the street, but she is a sweet girl, so I figured, why not? I thought Roland and Henry might enjoy having a pet. I don't know if you're a fan of dogs in your home, but, well, I'm hoping that if you're not, you'll love me enough to give her a chance. I promise she'll grow on you._

 _Of course, by now, you're probably sensing there's a story behind this, so here it is: I saw Perdita get killed by a taxi two days ago, and I couldn't live with myself knowing it was happening over and over again, so I rescued her, and now she's here, at the apartment with me._

 _I know I'm not supposed to alter the events in the timeline, and I know I should've consulted you first, in case you knew of any repercussions this could have on our situation, but it was sort of a spur-of-the-moment idea, and I just... needed to save her. I needed to do something, I couldn't let her suffer and die every day._

 _So far, here on my end everything remains the same. I stayed up all night to see if there were changes, but everything still repeats, with the exception that the dog is now a part of my life in this bizarre pocket of time I've found myself in. I don't know yet whether time has stopped resetting itself for Perdita (can dogs even perceive time the way we do?), but she seems to recognize me, so I'd dare say she remembers the new experiences from these past couple of days._

 _The day I saved her, I took her to the vet (a lovely woman named Anita who took great care of her), and brought her home after a walk in the park. And yesterday she let me bathe her without putting up much of a fuss (more than I can say for Roland on several occasions), then slept the rest of the afternoon, which I found quite nice. She's... well, she's quite the happy gal, really. I've gotten her food and the vitamins Dr. Anita recommended, and she should be healthy in no time._

 _I've enclosed a photo of us, in hopes that if her rather endearing face doesn't do the trick, maybe my own incredibly handsome one will ;)_

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

Regina doesn't know what's more ridiculous, the fact that he _drew_ an emoji, or that he's trying to get her to approve of the dog by flirting with her. But when she looks at the picture he's sent, she can't help the grin that breaks out of her, or the tears that follow.

It's the very first picture of himself he's sent her since this whole thing started, and the sight of him, real and _alive,_ sitting at the very table she's currently leaning on... it shakes her. She's crying through her own laughter, the glossy paper shaking in her hand as she drinks in the image of her soulmate, safe and sound in a wrinkle of time created just so they can find each other again.

Those dimples she loves so much are on full blast, the length of his arm visible right under where she assumes the camera would be. His eyes are blue as ever, sparkling up at her from the paper.

His words from the very first letter he'd left in the book for her echo in her head, spoken softly in his voice.

 _I am here, and I love you._

And now, just looking at him in this photo, it feels more real than it has since it all started. Her heart beats faster, because she misses him, dammit, and her entire being is trembling with need for him.

"Robin sent a selfie?" Henry laughs when he sees it later that night, just after he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

" _That_ is what catches your attention?" Regina asks with an amused grin, "He got a _dog_."

"I think it's awesome," her son answers, and well, of course he does, because, "I always wanted a dog and you always said no, now we get to have one."

"I haven't said if I'm okay with that yet," she retorts.

"Well, it's a good thing you have..." he pauses, turning to look at the calendar they keep taped to the fridge, "two hundred and eighty-five days left to get used to it."

He's smiling smugly at her, and keeps that smile there as he untwists the cap of his water bottle and drinks.

And yes, Regina supposes he's right, she has time to come to terms with the idea. Besides... they really do look adorable in that photo.

* * *

 _Dear Robin,_

 _It's very clever of you to flash those dimples in an attempt convince me of letting Perdita stick around, but I think she's managed to win me over all on her own._

 _I've spoken to The Dragon, and he agrees that this shouldn't negatively affect us in any way. I'd imagine time for Perdita will be the same as it is for you now, since you've altered her timeline by saving her life, but everything else should remain the same, with only slight changes in the lives of those involved. That cab driver, for example, might take on an extra client now, because he won't be delayed by the accident, and the people who witnessed it all will most likely just continue on their way without issue, but I'd keep an eye on the news after the time you saved her, just in case._

 _It's sad that Perdita was subjected to that horrible fate every day, I can only imagine how awful it must feel to live with the knowledge and not do anything to stop it, so I can't fault you for rescuing her. If you hadn't saved her, you wouldn't be the noble man I fell in love with._

 _Henry is over the moon about this, and I'm sure Roland will be, too. I'll bring the picture with me to show him, along with the letter you sent me for him yesterday._

 _As I told you before, we're heading out to Storybrooke tomorrow morning, since Henry's school is off for Thanksgiving weekend, so we have a bit more time to spend with everyone back home. However, that means four days without access to the book. I miss your letters already._

 _It looks like I'll be busy helping Snow with Thanksgiving dinner at my mansion. She insists we celebrate the holiday now that the town seems to be threat-free, and as much as I loathe sharing my kitchen with Snow, I'll admit I do find a bit of comfort in big holidays like this one. It marks the passage of time in a much bigger way than our everyday, don't you think? I will take it as a reminder that we're getting closer and closer to this being all over. It seems, though, that with Perdita around, you'll have your hands full, too. So maybe these next few days will pass by quickly for both of us, and then we can get back to our correspondence._

 _I'll make sure to take photos of the kids and everyone else over the weekend, especially of the baby on Sunday. Be prepared for a very full envelope when I arrive. And maybe a few of my Thanksgiving recipes for you to try out._

 _All my love,_

 _Regina._

It's a short reply, considering she's about to leave him for four days, but she's afraid if she goes deeper into how much she's going to miss his words while she's gone, she'll never finish writing.

Regina tucks the letter into the book, and gets his answer later that night, a brief but heartfelt one, complete with a few funny comments on Perdita's newest activities, a lovely message for his son, and a very cheeky request.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _You'll be relieved to hear the news don't reveal any major changes after saving Perdita. There are a few new developments, like some traffic jam that was usually reported is no longer there, and the policeman that handled the commotion after Perdita's death apparently stopped a robbery near there, since he wasn't busy dealing with the accident this time around to notice the robbers. The robbery itself had not been reported before, so I wasn't aware of it. Now that the officer stopped it, though, it's the big news on local media. All else seems to be the same, so I think we've 'dodged a bullet' as they say._

 _You've no idea how much I'm going to miss you this weekend. Whether I'm busy or not, you're always on my mind, always. I told you once, that I think about that elusive smile of yours every time I close my eyes. That's true even now._

 _Tell Roland I love him, and that I'm very excited for his letter. Tell him to draw me pictures, yeah? I want more for the fridge._

 _Perdita has now taken to barking out the window at birds flying by, which is quite annoying, but she has fun, so I can't deny her. She's also taken to waking me up with kisses, but you've nothing to worry about, I promise. I still much prefer your soft, delicious lips to her very slobbery snout._

 _Speaking of delicious, what are the chances I get to see that delectable body of yours in a new picture? I've been thinking of our nights in your vault. All cuddled up in that bed, hidden from the world while I kissed and touched every inch of you... do you think you can take the camera with you? Maybe visit your vault and take some of those photos that drive me absolutely mad with need?_

That's... well... huh... that's... that's an interesting idea, Regina thinks. Maybe if she's careful, she can sneak away and do this. It's quite voyeuristic on his part, but there's something oddly thrilling in the idea of recreating their times in the vault, of adding new purpose, new life to that unmade bed she couldn't bring herself to tend to after he was taken from her... and after all, she's been wanting to request he send pictures of his own, so it seems this will be their new normal until they can be together. She might as well go all out.

Regina packs the Polaroid in her bag, grinning mischievously to herself for a second before she goes back to Robin's letter.

 _Thanksgiving definitely sounds like a handful, but it also seems you'll have a nice time. I'm selfishly glad you'll be supervising the cooking, to be honest. I still haven't recovered from those terrible apple pies Snow made that one time we were over... but please don't tell her I said that._

He's talking about the mini apple tarts Snow made months ago, when she was pregnant and addled and didn't realize she'd put salt and pepper instead of sugar and cinnamon in the apples. The end result had been very unpleasant, and Robin had bit into the tart with such gusto that he'd ended up with a giant portion of the stuff in his mouth. He'd never been able to quite shake the taste of it, and would eat even Regina's apple pies with extreme caution after that.

The memory makes her chuckle, a brief moment where times had been happier and easier as she and Robin got to know each other, before new terrors had overshadowed their lives once again.

 _I can't believe my Elizabeth will be three months old on Sunday_ , the letter continues. _She's growing so fast, I fear soon she'll be shooting arrows and climbing trees while my old bones creak as I try to keep up with her. I look forward to all your stories and hope you enjoy that picnic you're taking the children on to celebrate the occasion, I know you said Bess is too young to remember these things, but I do think it will be good for all of you._

 _I wish you safe travels, my love, I'll be waiting._

 _Robin._

* * *

Storybrooke is bustling with activity when they arrive, everyone taking care of last-minute Thanksgiving preparations. Regina is astonished by how invested they all seem to be in the holiday, particularly when they've never celebrated it, in all the years they've been in this land.

But thinking back to Snow's comment, this really is the first time they're all themselves and without a pressing threat to handle, which gives a chance for leisure and dinner plans and pumpkin-flavored everything.

And when Roland all but bounces into her arms, smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg and informing her of the delicious pie Granny made him, Regina starts to see the joy in such a day.

Henry is off hugging Emma, and Snow fusses around the kitchen, overseeing the many dishes she'd started while Regina was on the way. She's tired from the drive, and needs a moment to gather herself, to shower and dress and maybe get a few minutes of quiet to calm the headache that's been brewing since they left New York.

"Go, take a moment, I have this covered," Snow says, noticing her discomfort.

"I don't trust you around food. Those mini apple pies—"

"Were a one-time fluke that happened while I was pregnant and scatterbrained. The turkey's in the oven, I followed every single recipe you gave me, they'll taste just like yours and nothing will burn. Now, please go, take a breather."

Regina eyes her skeptically, but thanks her for the break and heads upstairs all the same.

* * *

Her room feels lonely without him.

She used to love having all this space to herself. Sleeping alone in this giant bed that was all her own...

But she's grown used to him sleeping beside her, used to his arms enveloping her in the night, to his sloppy, lazy kisses of _Good morning, milady_ when they wake, even the deep rumble of his snoring, and the gentle comfort he offers when nightmares disrupt her sleep.

The faint smell of pine and fresh rain still lingers on her pillow, and she burrows into it after her shower, lets it calm her frazzled nerves. Until she surrenders to the softness of her silk pajamas and closes her eyes.

When she wakes about an hour later, it's to find Roland standing next to the night table, staring at her.

"How long have you been there, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice scratchy.

"Not long, just wanted to know you were okay."

His concern shakes her, as it always does, and she finds herself patting the spot right next to her, inviting him to climb up.

Roland jumps onto the bed, and then crawls over it until he's plopping himself beside her, just as Regina sits up with her back against the headboard.

"I'm okay, I promise, just a little tired. It was a long drive."

"Princess Snow told Emma you were all weird about the food."

Regina rolls her eyes and explains, "Princess Snow forgets that she was terrible at cooking until I taught her, and she has never done such a big dinner before. I was only making sure she didn't mess up our food."

"She had to throw away the mashed potatoes while you were sleeping. It looked like soup."

For some reason, that makes her laugh.

"She did, huh?" she asks, and Roland nods dutifully.

"Mhmm, they're making more now and she told us not to tell you, but I don't like lying to you."

"Thank you, Roland," Regina whispers, marveling at the sheer honesty Robin has passed on to his son. "I brought you something from your papa."

"You did?!" he asks excitedly. He'd known she would, but hadn't pushed, hadn't asked when he'd first seen her earlier, whether that's because he was distracted with Thanksgiving or because he'd been afraid to hope, Regina doesn't know, but she's glad to put that bright smile back on his face, in any case.

"Of course I did," she insists, waving her hand so that the letters safely tucked inside her bag appear suddenly on her hand. Roland marvels at the magic, and Regina can see his excitement grow as he urges her to open the envelopes.

"Well, first, I have some news," she starts, her hand grasping the paper, but making no move to open it. Roland looks up at her, curious, if a little cautious, like he's expecting whatever she has to tell him won't be good.

She's happy to show him how wrong he is on that count.

"Your papa got a dog," she informs him, smiling big and wide as his face lights up with joy.

"What?!" he asks cheerfully, and Regina nods to confirm.

"It's a secret, only you and Henry and I know, but yes, he saved a doggie and he's keeping her with him. You'll meet her in September when your papa comes home."

He looks a little dejected then, and pouts as he tells her, "That's so long, Regina."

"I know, honey," she consoles, "I miss him, too. But you have your calendar, right? You're counting down the days?"

Roland nods, still looking pouty.

"Good, and in the meantime we'll have letters and pictures, like I told you, okay? I brought a letter that your papa wrote just for you, and a picture he sent us, look."

She pulls out the photo of him and the dog, and smiles at the same time Roland does.

"It's papa!" he shouts, his voice made louder by the still quiet of her bedroom.

"I know!" she replies enthusiastically, "And that's his doggie! Her name is Perdita."

"She looks just like Pongo!" Roland tells her, and Regina nods.

"She does, and see how happy your papa looks? It's because he's not alone anymore. Perdita will make him smile while we're not with him, and then when he comes back, she'll have you and Henry to play with. How does that sound?"

"Awesome!" he cheers, "Can I read the letter, please?"

"Of course, sweetheart, here," she says, handing the paper to him, and then she guides him through the words, both of them sounding out each syllable, until they hit a period in the sentence, at which point they go back and read the full thing one more time before moving on to the next sentence, and the next, and so on.

The letter speaks of Perdita, mostly, and of chocolate chip cookies, and of how much he misses and loves Roland, a steady assurance that he repeats in every paragraph. He tells him he's showing Perdita his picture, so that she'll know his face when they meet, and Roland laughs at that, and excitedly asks Regina if he can keep the picture of Robin and the dog.

"So that I always know what Perdita looks like, too."

"Of course," she readily agrees, but feels a pang of nostalgia when she surrenders the photo to him.

He's Robin's _son_ , Regina reminds herself, and it makes complete sense for him to have the picture. And besides, she'll be requesting other photos from him anyway, photos that are more... tailored, to her very adult desires.

After all, there's no reason why she should be the only one getting naked.

But that's something to think about another time. Right now, she focuses on Roland, who is pleased as punch to have physical evidence of his father with him. He thanks her happily, then runs out the door, pausing in the hall and peeking his head back inside the room.

"Regina, is it okay if I tell Uncle John about Perdita? You said it was a secret."

"Sure, sweetheart, you can tell whoever you like," Regina confirms, delighting in the giant smile he gives her as he heads downstairs to show John, who she can hear singing a very badly tuned rendition of some Disney song or other, meaning the baby is here, too.

She's surprised, however, when it's not Zelena who has brought her, but the Merry Men. She'd figured they had arrived at the same time, not that little Bess would be in the hands of Friar Tuck, with her mother nowhere to be found.

"She left her with us this morning, said she'd see you tomorrow at the farmhouse. We can take her back with us after dinner if—" Tuck starts, but Regina holds up a hand.

"Not at all, she'll spend the night with me. Won't you, Bess?" Regina now directs her attention to the rosy-cheeked little princess that is being deposited into her arms. "You and I are going to be just fine."

Her finger taps the baby's tiny nose, then plays with her hand as she coos at her, and suddenly Regina feels like she's being watched, and looks up to find Emma and Henry smiling at her.

"You know, I often said I couldn't imagine you with Henry as a baby, but... it suits you," the blonde tells her, and their son only smiles more as he walks closer.

"Hey, Lizzie!" he says, taking her from Regina's hold, "Did you miss me?!"

The baby squeals, laughs and drools as Henry bounces her a little, and Regina is sure she would cry at the sight if Emma wasn't looking straight at her.

"He is so good with her," Snow's voice comes from behind them as she slides up next to Emma. "He'll be such a good father when he's older."

"That is an image I would rather not ponder on just yet, thank you," Regina snaps, refusing to picture her son as an adult with a family of his own. He's growing fast enough as it is.

"Yeah, what Regina said. No cheesy comments on my fifteen year old son's future parenting skills, please, mom," Emma echoes, arms crossed over her chest as she looks to Henry.

"Henry, did you see papa's dog?!" Roland asks excitedly, trying to get the attention back to him.

"I did! It's gonna be so fun when he comes back with her!" Henry agrees, splitting his attentions between both siblings easily, and Regina has to tear her eyes away from the adorable sight of her son sitting at the table, with Bess in his lap and Roland waving the photo in front of her, loudly and slowly sounding out PER-DI-TA to his baby sister as explanation. Regina turns to look at Snow and Emma, both asking the same question at once.

"Robin got a dog?"

"He rescued one," Regina answers them.

"And he sent a selfie?" Emma asks, walking over to the kids so she can see the picture, too. Roland fills her in about Perdita in such a loud voice that the entire kitchen hears it, and Regina doesn't have to repeat the story again after that.

"He did a noble thing," Charming says when he and Snow discuss the news.

"That he did," Regina agrees. "Not sure how I feel about having a dog in the house, though."

"You're going to love her, I can tell," Snow predicts, and she raises a skeptical eyebrow at her former stepdaughter, who shrugs as she explains her reasoning with, "Just look how happy it makes the kids, you'll never be able to say no to that."

And that, Regina thinks, is a very good argument.

* * *

Thanksgiving dinner goes by without a single issue, and though her house is loud and full of people yelling over each other, dirtying her dishes and making a mess of her kitchen and dining room, Regina can't deny the fact that this warmth of home, this feeling of family, is the first time in a long time where she's felt like she truly belongs.

Baby Bess dozes happy and cozy in Regina's arms as she and Henry say goodbye to everyone. Roland hugs her so tight for a moment she worries he'll wake the baby, but little Bess only scrunches her nose the slightest bit, and settles when her big brother presses a goodnight kiss to her forehead before he trods up the stairs. He usually stays with the Merry Men at their camp, but he's staying with Regina tonight, camping out in Henry's room so they can have breakfast together tomorrow and work on his letter for Robin.

it's when she finally heads upstairs to her room, tired and with a belly full of —dare she say it?— delicious food, that Regina finds a letter inside the crib she has set up for the sleeping child in her arms.

It's a small envelope, made in thick parchment and with a loopy _Regina_ scribbled in green ink. It's from Zelena, and the fact that she didn't show up to deliver it herself can only mean one thing.

She's gone.

Her hands shake even as she sets the baby down on the crib and grabs the letter, the paper trembling in her grasp as she opens the envelope, unfolds the page inside and begins to read.

 _I'm sorry, sis._

 _I know you want me to be like you, and that you want me to do better, to be good, but there are some things I just can't fight, not while also having to be responsible for a child and while having everyone breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fail._

 _Right now, I need to be myself, wickedness and all, and I can't do that here, where I will hurt you or my daughter by embracing that part of me. If something happens to me that I can't come back from, you'll know. In the meantime, just assume I'm working on myself. Or trying to, at least._

 _I am sorry for the pain I've caused you and Robin, and I do hope you can truly forgive me one day, and that you can find the happiness my foolish actions took from you both._

 _Please, take care of my daughter, she deserves a good mother, my actions should not condemn her like Cora's actions condemned me. I do love her, and I want her to be happy._

 _I hope I'll see you again someday, sis._

 _Until then,_

 _Zelena._

Regina doesn't realize she's scorching the letter with the fire in her hands until she smells the smoke, and quickly puts out the fireball that had been starting to form in her palm. Anger swirls hot and lethal inside her.

How dare she?

How _dare_ she abandon her daughter like this?!

It's a cowardly action, the desperate choice of someone whose addiction is stronger than their willpower, and Regina knows she should probably feel sad, or worried, but right now she just wants to find Zelena and burn this idiotic idea out of her head.

Not that she's able to, with her sister having left at least eight hours ago. And surely, she's placed every protection and cloaking spell on her broom and herself, making sure no one can find her. So no, she can't go after her, can't smack her for this rash decision that will only hurt little Bess in the end.

In that moment, she looks down at the baby, breathing deeply as she dreams on, safe and warm under her covers, unaware that her mother has just abandoned her to give _herself_ her best chance. Tears build up as she realizes she is all this little girl has now, and she wonders, just as she did with her son all those years ago, if she can be enough.

 _Yes_ , says a voice in her head, one that sounds an awful lot like Henry's. She _can_ be enough. She's a mother, has been mothering baby Bess for a while now. She is not just Robin's. She is hers, too.

Regina decides then that no, Zelena's escape will _not_ hurt Bess. She will see to it, will make sure this child, Robin's child, _her_ child, grows up safe, and happy and loved. Just as she had promised Zelena back in Camelot, though it had been said as part of a threat then, if she recalls.

Her lips find the soft baby hairs near her niece's temples, pucker in a soft kiss as she whispers a tearful goodnight and promises, "You will always have a home with me, little one."


	16. Chapter 16

**_Sorry for the delay, guys, got swept up in Dragon Outlaw Queen Week and then life took over for a while there._**

 ** _Since today is the anniversary of Robin's death I figured I'd update and give everyone something a bit less... grim, than what actually happened on the show. This fic was intended to fix that mess of a death plot anyway, right? So I really, truly hope that I'm doing that, and that you are all finding some healing through this story._**

* * *

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I guess it's best I start with the bad news first: Zelena has left._

 _I don't know where she is, and she's taken magical precautions so that I can't find her. She left a note, said she needed to "be herself," whatever that means. She also apologized for everything she's done, and said she just has to figure out who she is without the anger of revenge weighing over her._

 _I feel partly guilty for this. I feel like I should have seen this coming, like I should have known. All that time Zelena kept leaving the baby with the Charmings was so she could plan her escape, not because she needed to "catch up on sleep" like she kept telling me. I remember what it was like to need a moment to myself when Henry was a baby, how desperately I craved a few minutes to be Me and not Mom, so I thought maybe, if I gave Zelena a chance to have those moments, it would help her feel better, help her push through whatever existential crisis she thought she was having._

 _I am angry at my sister, and heartbroken that she chose to abandon her child, to abandon me, after everything. But I won't let that affect the baby. I promise you, Robin, she'll never want for motherly affection, she will always have me. Whether she needs me or not, whether Zelena ever comes back or not, I'll always be there for Bess._

 _The picnic wasn't the affair I expected after those news, as you can probably imagine. We took the day to discuss what was to be done. Snow offered to move Elizabeth into her home on a permanent basis while I'm in New York. I've decided that's not what I want, what you would want, so I have brought her back with me and Henry, to live with me here in the city, while we wait for you._

 _Roland wanted to come with us, too, but I couldn't let him. What little magic remains here from my encounter with the chalice (and whatever magic is in the book keeping us communicated) doesn't work like it does in Storybrooke, and I'm afraid if I bring Roland, it could mess with the effects of that memory potion we gave him after you were first here. It killed me to leave him, but I do believe it's for the best. At least until this magical ripple in time is fixed and our timelines are merged._

 _As far as the good news go, Thanksgiving was a success despite the news on Zelena. The food turned out nice, Snow did surprisingly well. And don't worry, Granny made the desserts, so no salty apple pie for anyone this time around._

 _With everything that happened, I'm sorry to tell you I did not get those pictures in the vault that you requested, but I will try to do it next weekend when I go. I did, however, take a lot of photos of the kids and the whole Thanksgiving affair, so you'll be getting those tomorrow after I've had them printed. I should probably invest on a photo printer to have here in the apartment, so that I can send these to you faster. I'll look into that._

 _Hoping your weekend was easier than mine,_

 _Regina_

He's baffled at how much the letter calms him. Has come to depend on them so much that going four days without them has turned him into a starving man, a thirsty creature whose first sip of water is the hastily scribbled page he's just read.

He was expecting a more pleasant topic than Zelena, or how she's abandoned their baby girl, and the fact that the woman has yet again corrupted a part of his life makes his blood boil. But Robin has never truly seen Zelena as Elizabeth's mother, and so his ire at her leaving is more on Regina's behalf than anything else. After everything she's done to give her sister a second chance, Regina is once again left to pick up the pieces of what Zelena has broken, and the unfairness of it all makes anger flare up inside him.

He loves Regina all the more for the fervent promise she makes, to love and take care of little Bess as if she were her own. It's exactly what she's been doing since the baby was born, exactly what she keeps telling Robin she'll do, but something in the way she keeps reassuring him, in how she continues to tell him, over and over again, that his daughter will be loved and well cared for, makes his heart swell with every tender emotion he's come to associate with his soulmate.

He writes a short response, in which he tells her, not for the first time, just how much he loves and misses her, how much he has longed for her letters these last few days, and how much he yearns to see her again. He tells her not to worry about the photos, that they'll find time for their naughty shenanigans later, and tells her to give the baby a kiss for him, and that he can't wait to see all the photos from their Storybrooke Thanksgiving feast.

He relates a bit of his last couple of days for her, explains to her how Perdita's life is definitely moving along with his. He'd done a little experiment over the weekend to confirm it. On Saturday (or Tuesday, again, in his timeline), he'd moved Perdita's food bowl from its usual spot to the other side of the apartment, and found that the dog noticed, and whined at him from her position, as if asking him where her breakfast was.

The bowl has since been put back in its place, and Perdita has happily eaten her meals without a peep. Anita, however, meets her anew every time Robin takes her to the veterinary clinic, and is often surprised by how quickly Perdita takes to her. Whenever she mentions it, Robin is tempted to tell her that it's because they've met before, quite a few times actually, but he is able to stop himself just before the words leave him.

Other than that, his days have not been exciting. He loves having Perdita around, finds that her company makes his life in this time loop a lot less dull, but besides taking her to the park and playing with her or watching TV with her at his feet, there's not much variation to his routine. The Capparellis meet Perdita every other day, and while it's become a bit boring to tell the story over and over again of how he found her, Robin does get a bit of enjoyment out of watching his dog interact with the elderly couple, and how much love they shower her with in return.

He exchanges a few more letters with Regina over the next few days, and each one makes him equal parts nostalgic and happy. He loves having her words back, cannot believe how much he's missed them, but they all strike where it hurts, make the hole in his heart even deeper when she reminds him how much the children miss him, how much _she_ misses him.

He'll take that over not hearing from her, though. Definitely.

Two weeks later, she finds the time during one of Elizabeth's many naps, to take a few of those nude pictures for him, and sends them with a request that he send some of his own, a cheeky comment about reciprocation being expected this time around. She's right, of course. Here he is, with a box full of visuals of her glorious body, put on display just for him, and his only photo to her has been the one with Perdita.

He chooses a good spot in the park to take a few pictures of the dog, asks a few strangers to take a couple of him playing around with Perdita. And then that night, when he's fresh out of his shower and thinking of Regina's gorgeous, naked form, he decides that perhaps it's time to reciprocate.

His respect for the woman he loves grows exponentially when he realizes just how nerve-wracking and physically challenging it is to take photos in the nude.

He has no idea what he's doing, and unlike Regina, he has neither the grace or the coordination to take a good posed photo. Instead, he just stands in front of the bathroom mirror with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, and snaps a few shots with the old polaroid. He makes sure that his upper body is in full view, as he knows just how much Regina likes running her fingers over his abs, how much she enjoys digging her fingernails gently into his skin. The memory, the ghost of her touch on him, makes shivers run down his spine in the most wonderful way.

The camera is bulky and a bit of a hindrance, so it takes him a moment to find proper balance, enough to keep the contraption from blocking the view of his face in the mirror. And then he realizes there is way more to this than just getting the angles right.

Should he smile? Should he just stand there? Should he... drop the towel?

There's just something that doesn't feel quite right about sending pictures of your nether regions to a lady... but then again, she's asked for them, and she's been sending him plenty of photos of her own naked body. Truly, if this is what Regina wants, he will give it to her (he'll give her the world if she asks for it), so he decides to soldier on, embarrassing as though it may be to take photos of himself in the buff. That said, he can't deny that there's a thrill to what he's doing, and his cock is already stirring at the sexually adventurous quality of it all.

Robin lowers his free hand and strokes himself a bit, thinking of her (always of her) until he's hard and aching for much more than the gentle pressure he's applying. Aching for Regina, for the wet warmth of her, the gasps and quiet moans she lets out at his touch, the soft caress of her skin against his. He is aching for all of her, for everything she gives him in their intimacy and all that he longs to grant her in return.

The click of the camera is barely audible, distracted as he is by the way his hand grips just a little bit tighter and moves slowly up and down his shaft. He doesn't know if the image will be pleasing enough, but it's the best he can do, and sending more than one photo of him beating off to the thought of her seems like too forward, too bold. Instead, he grabs the towel again and tries a few other, more modest shots to accompany that main one, including one of his body from head to toe, the towel wrapped low around his hips now, displaying part of the indents that cut a deep V into his muscles (she likes those, his Regina, likes to trace them with her fingers and tongue whenever he's bare and on his back, completely at her mercy in their comfy bed).

He debates adding a letter to the photos, a bit of teasing words and not-so-hidden desires, just the way she likes, but he's too caught up in how good it feels when he pumps just a tad faster and remembers her dropping her red dress to the floor that first night in her vault. He remembers peeling that tight black skirt off of her the next morning, how he had desperately dragged the zipper down her rear and groaned with need, his voice raspy as he'd told her just how beautiful she is, how he never wanted to leave that room.

She'd responded with more desperate kisses, he remembers, her tongue busy trailing up his jaw while her hand moved easily down to his trousers. She'd unbuttoned them by magic, he recalls, and then she'd grasped him and ran her thumb over the tip just as he's doing now, spreading the tiny bead of moisture there. She'd moaned at his answering gasp, had kissed him more fiercely as her hand pumped up and down in measured strokes, picking up the pace by using his ragged breathing as cues.

Robin moves his hand faster now, thinking back to the way she'd sighed, content, when she'd straddled him and taken every inch of his cock slowly inside her, and then she'd rolled her hips deliciously while he watched her, and she had gasped out his name when her movements had him hit that spot that drove her wild.

He's hard, so hard, just thinking of her, just from remembering the way she'd looked and felt as she writhed and circled her hips above him on that bed in her vault. That morning had been one of the best of his life, even better than their first time the night before. He wants her. So much.

He thinks back to Camelot, to taking her against the wall of her chambers, with her chest pressing into the cold stone and the skin of her back all bare before his wandering lips, her hair swishing every which way as he'd slammed into her over and over again.

"Regina," he whispers, his eyes shut tightly as he lets the images play out on his mind, scene after scene of pure lust and raw desire, of love and devotion and absolute _need_ that they could not shake off. She always comes with a little cry, his soulmate, always, her voice made breathy and low as she tells him to keep going, that she's almost there.

His mind conjures up the image of her reaching that peak, but not in Camelot, or in the vault, but here, in this very apartment, where they share a bed in different points in time. He wants her here, wants to ravish her and lavish every inch of her skin with kisses, and the teasing little licks he knows she likes. He wants to have her in every possible surface of this place, wants to mark it just as strongly as it's marked them.

It's that thought, and the imaginary picture of Regina coming on his cock while splayed on the kitchen table, that finally makes him tip over the edge. He comes in his hand, his grunts muted by the sounds of her he brings out from his prized memories, to aid him in prolonging this feeling of complete bliss as he falls apart at the thought of her.

Cleaning up is a slow affair, Regina-addled as he is, but once he's done and clothed in the cotton pants he likes to sleep in, Robin looks over the photos. It feels strange, still, to see himself naked in a piece of paper, but he reminds himself that it is what she wants, and that the rest are a lot less... raunchy. It should be fine.

He scribbles a quick note in a post-it by the desk and sticks it to the envelope, leaving it all inside the book and sighing with relief, as he always does, when a few minutes later said envelope disappears from the pages.

When he wakes up, there's no response, but he knows her life is a bit more hectic now that she's taking care of the baby first-hand, and perhaps she just hasn't really had time to look through those pictures yet. She can't very well do it with Henry in the house, and certainly not while Bess is kicking and screaming and needing to be fed or changed.

He sleeps in that morning, and grabs a quick breakfast before he trots to the Capparellis before they've even called about the oven. They save time like this, and he really wants to take Perdita to the park today, so he walks into the bakery, and reintroduces his friends to the dog as usual.

At this point Robin has bought a large assortment of valves, so that he doesn't have to buy a new one every morning to replace the broken one. He carries one of those new valves with him in his jacket pocket, and makes quick work of the necessary repairs before he's bidding the Capparellis goodbye and munching on today's "Thank you" treat, a delicious ham and cheese croissant.

Halfway to the park, he notices that Perdita is looking at him almost exasperatedly, like she can tell something is amiss and it's his fault. It doesn't take long for him to realize it's because he's forgotten the frisbee they were supposed to play with.

"I know, I'm sorry," he tells Perdita, and sighs deeply at her disappointed frown. Dog's too smart for her own good.

"Fine, we're only a ten minute walk from the apartment, let's pop back in there for a bit and I'll get us the frisbee, yeah?"

Even as he speaks, he's already begun walking in the direction of his building. And he's so caught up in getting that frisbee and heading to the park as quickly as possible that he doesn't realize there's someone there until he bumps into the woman.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he apologizes to her quickly, and it's only when her voice answers him with a shrill _It's alright_ that he realizes just _who_ it is he's crashed into.

Caroline is looking at him with a saccharine smile that makes Robin feel... well... violated. Her eyes are roaming up and down his body in ways he has never seen a woman do before, and she's pensively twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers as she hums and tells him, "I haven't seen you around here before."

Perdita is oddly still, sitting beside him quietly and scrutinizing the woman before them.

"I'm Robin," he sighs, like it's almost a confession.

"I'm Caroline," she replies, keeping that weird grin in place as she tries —and fails— to throw a seductive wink his way. Gods, this woman is ridiculous.

"Nice to meet you," he answers, "and I'm really sorry about bumping into you, I just really need to grab what I came here for and get her to the park."

"Aw, you're taking your baby girl to the park, that's sweet," she says, choosing not to understand that he really wants to get going. "What's her name?"

She's crouched down now, and Robin isn't really looking at Perdita in that moment, but he can feel the way she tenses up at the stranger's proximity.

"Perdita," he says warningly, and Caroline seems to think he's answering her question (he supposes he is, in a way), and dotes on his dog.

"Aw, she's beautiful!" she gushes, "Look at all those gorgeous spots and those adorable eyes. Oh, I could just squish her!"

She tries to do just that as she speaks, and Perdita growls in return, halting the woman's movements.

"Sorry, she's not great with new people," Robin lies, and he can feel his dog's eyes on him, as if she's judging him for using her as a scapegoat when he adds, "I best be going."

"Right, the park," Caroline says, trying to seem casual when she backs away, but he knows how to read people well enough. Her eyes are wide, her mouth set in a thin line, her posture rigid when it hadn't been a minute ago. She's clearly not amused by his dog's reaction to her.

Robin makes a mental note to grab a treat for Perdita along with the frisbee.

"Yes, the park," he confirms for Caroline, his tone warm and polite despite his desire to be anything but. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He says nothing more, only walks quickly up the stairs, but he can feel his neighbor's eyes on him as she calls back a flirty, "I'll see you around, Robin," that almost makes his skin crawl. And _No, Caroline_ , he thinks to himself, trying very hard not to cringe, _You won't_.

* * *

Perdita is a great dog.

Robin cannot wait to introduce her to Roland, to watch her interact with him, with Henry and the baby, with Regina. He knew it would be a hard sell, but she seems to have accepted that his return comes complete with a new furry addition to the family. Perdita is strong, stubborn, but kind and affectionate to those she trusts. She's very guarded, no doubt as a result of who knows what level of neglect or abuses she went through before Robin found her, but once she takes a liking to someone (like Robin has seen her do with the Capparellis or Anita, for example), she's the sweetest, most loyal friend to them.

Robin knows, he just knows, that once she meets her and recognizes their kindred spirits, Perdita's loyalty will be exclusively to Regina. And he can't say he minds that one bit.

They enter the apartment after a fun time at the park, Robin sweaty and exhausted, Perdita wagging her tail, her mouth open and tongue out as she pants and goes in search of her water bowl.

After he's set up some lunch to cook on the stove, he walks tentatively towards the small desk, sighing in relief when he notices a corner of a page sticking out of it.

To his complete and utter disappointment, however, what he finds when he pulls on the paper is not a letter, but the post-it he'd added to his photos. Upon closer inspection, though, he notices that it's been altered, with words scribbled in Regina's hand right under his own.

 _How did it feel?_

Oh. Well, then.

It seems she's in a playful mood, and Robin grins mischievously as he grabs a blank sheet of paper and his trusty black pen. How did it feel, she asks. Amazing, it felt amazing, stroking himself while images of her nakedness played in his head on a loop, memories igniting his need for her and rewarding his efforts with yet more mental pictures of her body, all soft curves and wanton moans as she let him take her. As she took him, in turn.

And so he writes it, every word, and adjusts himself in his jeans with his other hand, growing harder with every line. He thinks about what he wants to do to her, what he wants to see her do to him...

It's complete and absolute torture, and it is bloody exquisite.


	17. Chapter 17

**_You may not have received the notification for chapter 16 because FFn was dealing with issues when I posted it a couple weeks back, so make sure you read that one first if you haven't yet =)_**

 ** _As always, let me know what you think!_**

* * *

 _Fantastic. But not as good as you._

 _I can tell you with total certainty that while it is great to come while thinking of you, it does not feel anywhere near as good as it does when I'm inside you, when you scream my name or kiss me as you reach that peak. Nothing has ever felt that good, nothing ever will._

 _I have a newfound respect for you after those photos. I've no idea how you got the camera to work in those poses, or how you managed to capture every single inch of your delectable body for me to look at in so many different angles, but I am eternally grateful, and hope that my response is sufficient for now._

 _It was quite awkward, trying to get the photos just right, but... gods, Regina. The moment I started fantasizing about you, about our times together, all my worries disappeared, and it was just you, naked and gorgeous and wet under my touch, asking for my tongue, for my cock..._

 _Every image my mind conjured up just deepened my arousal, my need for you. I thought of our first morning in your vault, of how I peeled that tight skirt off of you, how you climbed over me and took my cock deep and steady, rolled your hips as you told me just how good it felt, how you wanted to stay there forever. Sometimes, I wish we had. At least then I'd be with you, in that bed, kissing you and feeling you, instead of imagining all of this while touching myself in a way that pales in comparison to what you do to me._

 _I thought back to one of our nights in Camelot, when we'd —again— had a bit too much wine, and ended up sweaty and undressed against the wall of your chambers. I remember how you suddenly stopped kissing me, and looked into my eyes, so trusting and open, and then you turned around, and pressed yourself to the stone, asking me to take you from behind. Do you remember what you said? You said "I want you like this," and I swear, I've no idea how I didn't come in that precise moment, watching you lean into the wall and open your legs, wet and ready for me._

 _I remember how your hair swished over your back, how beautiful you looked, how you moved your hair to the side to expose your neck for me, all that skin just begging me to kiss it..._

 _Just thinking about it again now is doing things to me. As I write this, I'm already palming myself in my jeans, readjusting myself so that I can at the very least finish this letter before I surrender to these fantasies again. And oh, there have been so many fantasies._

 _Do you realize, I've had you in quite possibly every place we've been to together? Camelot, your vault, the mansion, Granny's, your office, even in the Underworld we found that little corner in the woods where I could ravish you... but I haven't had you here. And yet, thanks to your photos, I am consumed with images of you naked in this apartment._

 _I want that. I want you in every corner, every possible surface of this apartment, Regina. I want to mark this place as ours the moment I see you. The kitchen counter, the couch, the dinner table, against the bookcase... I'm hard again just thinking about it. I want to watch you come and hear you scream my name here, in the place where we keep each other's hope alive while your timeline reaches mine._

 _I miss you. I want to be inside you and watch as you moan and roll your hips against mine. I can't stop moving my hand now, I'm so hard, I need you here. I need to taste you. Are you aroused, Regina? Are you wet? Do you wish I was with you right now, sucking on your nipples the way you like? Or would you rather I kiss my way down your body, I wonder? Would you rather I suck somewhere else? Lick somewhere else?_

 _Would you scream if I touched you right now? If I put my fingers inside you and curved them up and just a little to the left, right on that spot that makes you putty in my hands? Would you kiss me and taste yourself on my lips after I've eaten you?_

 _Did you know that you moan when you do that? It's a tiny thing, so low I can barely hear it, but it's there, this little "Mmm" that comes out when you find your flavor on my tongue. I live for that sound, hear it over and over in my head when I think about you like this, bare and stunning and coming alive under my touch._

 _I want you so much. Love you so much. I can't wait to feel you again, to have you in my arms and relive all of this. I want to find new ways to make you cry out, new corners of your body that I haven't kissed yet. I want to run my fingers through your hair the way you like, with just a little bit of a tug, I know how that drives you wild, how it makes you ride me faster. I want to feel the heat of your body on mine, and never, ever, let you go away again._

 _And I have now made a mess of myself, because of this, because of you, your beautiful eyes and your sinful curves in the many photos I find myself staring at every chance I get. I miss you more than I can say, Regina, and I continue to count down the days until I can hold you again._

 _Love,_

 _Robin._

He's going to kill her. She is certain of that.

When she'd asked in her note how it felt, she was not expecting this. Some sexy words, surely, but not... this. He's terribly explicit now, telling her everything he fantasizes about, telling her what he thinks _she_ would do to him. It's new, and incredible, and her hand is currently rubbing circles on her clit as she reads and reads again, her eyes darting from the words to the pictures he'd sent earlier.

His body is even more attractive than she remembers. His arms are strong, with well-defined muscles that she can almost feel wrapping around her. The hard planes of his chest, that deep V down his hips, his cock in his hand and the lustful darkness of his eyes... she cannot get enough, and she understands now why he asks for photos, why he insists she tell him what she wants to do to him.

The sensations coursing through her as she looks at the photos is exquisite, his words playing on a loop as she imagines everything. Every little detail he's described, and the reactions he always has to them when they're together. Not for the first time since she found this letter, Regina is grateful that she waited until Henry was at school before she started reading.

She's alone in the bedroom, while Bess takes a nap in the living room, safely strapped to her new bouncy chair. Regina is sweating, gasping, moaning Robin's name as low as she can, enjoying every bit of this.

Because they've been apart for months, dammit, and she wants him, misses him, his body and yes, his cock, she misses his cock inside her, and the way he'd whisper naughty things to her while he took her against the wall. Of course she remembers that time in Camelot that he describes, it was the first time she ever trusted anyone enough to surrender control that way, and she regrets nothing of that night.

He'd kissed her, touched her, made her wetter and wetter with every pass of his tongue between her legs, until he deemed her ready, and pushed into her with a groan she can still hear if she closes her eyes and concentrates hard enough.

Two fingers dip and move inside her now, slow thrusts that aren't exactly what she needs, but give her enough to enjoy, to revel in the sensation and prolong this. It's been a while since it's felt this good. Sure, for the past few months she's made do with her hand (and even the vibrator she'd curiously purchased online a few weeks back), but having all this new stimulation, the images of him hard and aching for her, his bolder words of lust and need...

"Yes," she rasps, daring to move her hand just a bit faster, just a bit deeper, hitting that spot that feels like a personal victory to Robin whenever he finds it (and he finds it _every_ time). She wants him so much, needs him, needs to feel him moving inside her while his thumb rubs over her clit, needs his tongue to do its wonders on her body, his hands to hold her and work her up the way only he can.

"Robin," she lets out, her eyes shut tightly as she draws her fingers out, whimpering just a bit at the momentary loss of sensation, but she knows it'll be better in the end. Reaching over to the second drawer of her nightstand, Regina grabs the vibrator, and brings it to her clit just as soon as she powers it on.

The buzzing is low, enough to tease but not enough to make her come, and she takes a moment to relish the feeling, to trick her brain into thinking it's Robin who is riling her up like this. God, yes, that feels good.

Her back arches from the bed, and out of the corner of her eye she catches those pictures again, strewn over her bed beside her, all set up so she can stare at them while she does this. Robin's words echo in the room, his promise to have her here, everywhere, to make her come and come, his comments on the sounds she makes, on the way she moves, on how much he loves to watch her.

It feels so good. So good, she almost decides to simply give into it and forget about the plan that's just formed in her head, but it's a good plan, one she knows he'll thank her for, so Regina forces herself to stop, worked up as she is, and reaches for the Polaroid on the nightstand.

It feels more awkward than anything she's ever done up until now, but she tries to push through, reminds herself that it's for Robin. And well, he's gotten her all hot and bothered with that letter and those photos, which means he's won, and she can't have that.

Regina has no idea when it turned into a competition, but she enjoys it, and as silly as she feels opening her legs to the camera, she knows this will certainly help her one-up Robin's letter.

She's been playing with her magic a bit, trying to get used to how it acts here in New York, and while it's dampened somehow, she's managed to figure out some of the little things, like lighting a candle with a wave of her hand, or flipping a switch with a snap of her fingers. Pushing the button of the Polaroid is not that different, and after a few tries, she gets the hang of it, and takes quite a few photos that will probably embarrass her later.

There she is, spread open for him in a couple different angles, her hand rubbing at her clit, wet and ready for him just as he's described. There's a few shots of her fingers pushing inside her, and if she wasn't so focused on getting the wave of her free hand just right for the camera button to push down, she'd be reveling in the feeling, maybe even moving her fingers faster, deeper.

As it is, she's currently making sure that the images show a clear shot of what she wants him to see, and as ridiculous as it feels, to be lying in bed with a camera between her thighs, she knows it'll be worth it. She cannot wait to read about Robin's reaction.

Once she has a good six or seven photos that she's happy with, she shoves the camera away, and grabs her vibrator again, surrendering to the delicious buzzing and bucking her hips as she thinks of him. Regina hadn't wanted to imagine him here, in the same bed where Zelena did what she did to him... but now, now that he's put all these ideas in her head about taking her on every corner of the apartment, she can't help it.

She finally allows those thoughts to flow, and thinks of him taking her hard and fast as they lie on their sides, her back pressed into his chest and her leg hiked up and back over his. She thinks of the way her hands would fist in the sheets as he rubbed her clit, of the wet line of open-mouthed kisses he would trail over her neck. She thinks of his tongue, of the forest scent of him, with that hint of sweat and sex that makes him all the more intoxicating...

Regina comes with a strangled little moan, and lets the vibrator fall on the mattress as she replaces the strong buzzing currents of it with two of her own fingers, moving them slowly to prolong this feeling of bliss.

An idea occurs to her, and for a moment, all those years as the Evil Queen, using seduction to get her way, come back to guide her actions.

When love became a part of sex, she'd lost a bit of that boldness that the Evil Queen used to have, that imposing sensuality that was more of a weapon than a quality. That boldness returns to her now, and after setting the camera in place, Regina snaps a photo drawing her fingers out, and then another with those same fingers touching her lips, her eyes hooded and sleepy from post-orgasm relaxation.

So maybe she can't write hot, steamy letters like Robin does, but oh, she can definitely entice him with these pictures. She'd been a bit apprehensive of them at first, she remembers, but there's something incredibly powerful in the action, in knowing how the images affect him, and it only makes her want to continue these little photoshoots.

Once the photos are ready, and she's come down from her high with enough coordination to move around the room, Regina washes up, puts on her robe, and adds the finishing touches to her gift for Robin.

She's feeling playful, empowered, and decides to toy with him a little bit, adding a bit of a naughty little note on a post-it she sticks to the envelope, and captioning the Polaroid shot of her slick fingers in her mouth with that _Mmm_ Robin has told her he can't get enough of.

"Let's see how you like that, thief," she says to herself, grinning all the while.

* * *

She makes apple pie after she's sent her little package, and plays with baby Bess when she wakes up.

When Henry arrives from school, and suggests getting some Mongolian barbecue for dinner from the restaurant down the street, Regina is too chipper to say no.

Robin's response doesn't reach her until the next morning, and it's every bit as satisfactory as she thought it would be. He speaks of the very intense night he had thanks to her photos, calls her a minx for the comment she left on that one shot she knew would drive him wild, and then proceeds to give her details on what he imagined.

He tells her again how much he misses her, how much he longs for their nights together, how he yearns to touch her and feel her growing wet on his fingers...

It's a vicious cycle of endless desires that go unmet, and they both make do with their hands and words and pictures. Regina tries to write again, taps into that part of her that was daring enough to take such racy photos, and though her letters are short, they add to the experience for both of them.

On December 2nd, Regina is awakened not by her alarm, or by Henry's heavy footfalls moving around the apartment, or by Elizabeth's cries demanding to be fed, but by men stomping their feet outside in the hall, talking loudly and laughing at way too early an hour for anyone to be that energetic.

She gets out of bed, making sure Bess is still sleeping soundly (she swears, that girl could sleep through an earthquake, just like her father), and then peers curiously out the door.

It appears someone is moving in. At 6AM on a Friday. Great.

Boxes are being passed around, thrown carelessly on the floor of the open apartment next to hers, and Regina can't help but roll her eyes at the disruption. She thought she had at least one more hour before she had to get out of bed. No point to that now.

The men seem to notice her discomfort (and how could they not, with the scowl she's giving them), and it earns her a half-hearted apology from the youngest one of them, just before he throws yet another box inside the apartment. Regina rolls her eyes, and goes to shut the door when an annoyingly shrill voice breaks through what's already a very noisy hallway.

"Be careful with the vase, boys, it's French crystal!"

Some of the men wince at the sound, and even though she had just glared at them, Regina now offers her own wince in solidarity. No one should have to listen to a voice like that shouting orders so early in the morning.

She tells herself it's not like the woman can help what she sounds like, and she should be respectful, because whoever this person is, she's done nothing to her. But then the woman yells out again that they keep an eye on her French crystal vase, and that voice just grates on Regina like nails on a chalkboard.

"Could you _please_ keep it down?!" she says exasperatedly, just as the last of the movers walk past and the woman is revealed to her.

She's about Regina's age, a little younger maybe, with long blond hair and big blue eyes, and a smile that has no place in the conversation.

"Hi, neighbor!" she greets, waving enthusiastically even though she's standing right in front of her. "I'm Caroline!"

"Regina," she grouses in reply, her arms crossed over her chest, her robe doing nothing to ward off the cold of the December morning.

"I'm sorry about the noise, but it was the only time they had available before lunch, and I have a mani-pedi right after. You understand, I'm sure."

No, she doesn't understand. Not when she's been brought out of sleep by all this horrible noise and is now freezing just outside her door.

"Just stop making such a racket, I have an infant who is trying to sleep," she barks back, turning her back on her new neighbor and shutting the door behind her. She'd have slammed it for good measure, but doesn't want to wake up Bess or Henry.

She hears a muffled "Sorry!" from behind the door, again in that ridiculously high-pitched voice, and Regina actually growls at the annoyance.

She drinks double her usual amount of coffee this morning, knowing she'll need it, and curses her new neighbor one more time for disrupting her.

* * *

Christmas comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and Regina spends it in Storybrooke with the kids and the family. There's turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole and pumpkin pie, all made by her and Roland instead of Snow, and their cooking is given plenty of accolades by everyone involved.

Henry brings Violet to dinner, exchanges shy smiles with her all throughout the meal, and Regina has to tame that green eyed monster inside her that makes her want to terrorize the poor girl for going anywhere near her baby boy. She catches them making out behind her apple tree later that night, and the embarrassment of intruding in such a moment, paired with how strange it feels to see Henry in such a... non-childlike manner, is enough to jar Regina from her mean streak.

The awkwardness is so palpable, that Emma cracks a few jokes to try and break the tension when she finds out, but Regina can't find humor in watching her little prince becoming a man, and the more wine she drinks, the more she starts to miss the days where it was just the two of them, playing in the snow and listening to Christmas carols on the radio.

Luckily, Roland is new to all of this, and partakes in every single tradition Regina introduces to him. From snowball fights to hot chocolate by the fire, rolling sugar cookies and decorating gingerbread houses, he soaks it all in, and the magic of the season helps the light in his eyes sparkle just a bit brighter.

Overall, it's a good holiday, with fun games and good company, but there's a little, persistent stab of pain in her soul, like a tiny needle is puncturing Robin's silhouette into her heart with every moment he misses, every laugh he's not there to witness.

She tries to tell him as many details as she can through the letters they exchange leading up to it, and in the letters she sends afterwards. She gives him a full description of every single event, complete with Roland's every reaction, Elizabeth's every new development, every joke from his men. She even tells him of how mopey she felt, spending Christmas without him, and only smiles again when in his next letter, Robin tells her yet again how much he loves her.

Just 255 days to go.


	18. Chapter 18

Update 1 of 2. The second one will HOPEFULLY be up sometime this weekend if there are no complications.

* * *

Alright. She wins.

He thought he had her with the letter (and when had this turned into a competition?). Thought the racy way he'd described what he wanted to do to her, what he was doing to himself while thinking of her, would be enough to captivate her, maybe even leave her speechless.

Instead, she's gone and done _this_.

Robin stands by the side of his bed, staring dumbfounded at the almost-dozen pictures of Regina strewn on the mattress before him. All of them new, all of them showing her naked and wet, legs open and inviting him to just lean in and lick and suck at the glistening evidence of her arousal.

Fuck, he can't stop looking at them. It's like she's given him a prize after striving so long to achieve a goal, like she's showing him a glimpse of that promised land he's been dreaming about since they parted.

It's... overwhelming, how much he desires her, how much he wants to simply strip her naked and bury his cock inside the wet heat of her. He wants to kiss her, wants to touch every inch of her skin, and he pictures it all, strokes his erection as he thinks of her, aided by the stunning visuals she's sent his way.

Each pull of his hand on his cock is a thrust inside her in his head, her name breathier and breathier as it stumbles out of him on every pass, his thumb spreading precum over his tip as he looks at the image of Regina with her slick fingers in her mouth, looks at that teasing _Mmm_ looped in her elegant handwriting just under the photo.

It's like he can almost hear it, that little moan of absolute satisfaction when she tastes herself on his tongue, and gods, how he misses her, how he misses the feel of her, the warm smoothness of her skin, the dips and curves of her body as it writhes atop him...

He comes embarrassingly fast, moves away at the very last minute so as not to spill all over Regina's precious gift. And fuck, now he's got the image of coming on her tits in his head, and it makes those last few waves of orgasm crest just a little bit higher before they abate.

Robin sighs her name, a tortured _Regina_ that hurts more than satisfies. Because she isn't here, with him, where she belongs, and it kills him.

He misses fingering her, feeling how tight and wet she gets, misses that gaspy little whimper of his name that she lets out when he curves his fingers just so. How the hell is he going to make it until their timelines meet? They're not even a quarter of the way through their one-year wait and he's already aching so badly he can't breathe.

It's not just the sex. He misses _her_ , misses the adorable scrunch of her nose when he showers her with compliments that embarrass her, the shy but dazzling smile she gives him every single time he kisses her, the way she leans into his touch when he cradles her face in his hand... all of it.

He achingly misses their conversations; how they could talk for hours about everything and anything and still have topics left to discuss the day after. He misses the smell of her, those faint moving-around-the-kitchen noises that would reassure him she wasn't a dream he'd conjured up in his loneliness.

Regina is the most intelligent, striking, courageous woman he's ever met, and the pain of being separated from her affects him more each day. Robin wonders sometimes, if fate would be cruel enough to kill him of a broken heart before they get to meet again. He shakes those thoughts away as soon as they appear, though, because dammit they have earned their moment in the sun, fought for it time and again without permanent results. They deserve perpetual happiness when all of this is over, he knows they do. He's been very clear in his letters; he wants a life, wants forever with her.

He wants to wake up every morning and feel her bare skin, kiss every inch of it, make her come alive with his touch...

His cock stirs again when his eyes settle once more on the photos she's sent, and it seems his body has decided that rest is for the weak, because it wants her again.

He comes three more times that night, looking at her and letting his fantasies run amuck in his head.

Robin writes to her in the morning, is as candid as he can be when describing his reaction to her gift.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I'm beginning to think you want me to faint and never wake up; induce me in some sort of lustful coma where all I do is dream up scenarios where I get to taste and touch and sink my cock inside you. Not that that's a bad way to spend an eternity or two, in fact I'd quite prefer it over not having you at all, but why seek out dreams when I can enjoy the real thing?_

 _Those photos... I couldn't stop looking at them all night. As I've said, my hand is a poor substitute for those delightful curves, the wet heat of you as you move against me, but gods, Regina, seeing those images... I came so hard just looking at you, thinking of you tasting yourself. But then, you knew that would happen, didn't you? It's why you wrote what you wrote in that picture, is it not? You're a minx, Your Majesty, and as torturous as it is being unable to eat you the way I want, I quite enjoy our little sexual rendezvous through these letters._

 _I miss having you naked under me. Do you want to know what I pictured when looking at you? I thought of that night when you snuck into my camp, except in my head you were naked under that heavy black coat. You just walked in, and dropped that blasted thing, and there you were, bare and gorgeous, your nipples all pert and needy and begging for my tongue._

 _I thought of how you'd joined me in my cot, and I know that night all we did was sleep, but we weren't as... demure this time around. Oh, no, this (albeit imaginary) time, you climbed onto that cot with such purpose, and then you opened those beautiful long legs of yours, just like in that one photo, and you called my name, and next thing I knew, I was thrusting into you. I thought of the way you taste, how you smell, that little rasp in your voice as you tell me to go harder, faster, you're so close..._

 _I miss feeling you come around me, those little whimpers you let out when you shiver as I keep going. I love how your entire body just trembles and shakes with the force of your orgasm, and how you keep undulating your hips against mine right afterwards to prolong the feeling. When I finally have you again, I don't think we'll ever leave the room._

 _I long for you, for our nights together of endless talks and fervent kisses. I yearn to touch you, to feel the way you become wetter and wetter on my fingers as I suck on your nipples and tell you how badly I want you..._

 _Closer and closer every day, my love._

 _I miss you,_

 _Robin._

* * *

It's an odd feeling, to know it's Christmas when your surroundings are still bathed in the late summer sun of September, but Robin tries to make the most of it. He and Regina pass letters back and forth discussing possible gifts for the boys and the baby. Admittedly, he has no idea what half the things Regina mentions even are, given his lack of experience with the children's toys of this world, but they decide on a train set for Roland, and maybe something from that jungle movie he loves; a new iPod for Henry, among other things that go far beyond Robin's basic understanding of modern technology; and a giant stuffed animal for Bess.

He gets pictures of all of it, his son's big toothy grin as he plays with his train, Henry's excited smile as he holds up the iPod to the camera... he even gets a photo of his baby girl, in the middle of what looks to be a very drooly giggle as Regina holds her astride a giant stuffed giraffe.

Regina tells him of the awkwardness of catching her son in a compromising position with a girl, and Robin grins, teases her for being jealous, and she writes back that he's delusional, it was nothing of the sort.

Except it was, and she begrudgingly admits it after a few more of his jibes.

 _It's alright, my love, he writes in one of his letters, If it's any consolation, at least Roland still has a few years before he starts thinking of romance as anything other than "icky."_

 _And thank heavens for that,_ Regina writes back. _I've had enough of this growing up business for a while._

She tells him how much she misses him, how she wished he'd been there to witness the festivities first hand, and promises that next year it'll be better, that they'll take part in every single tradition he wants, so long as they're together.

Robin smiles and tears up through all of it, takes in every detail Regina describes for him in her letters, and almost weeps with the joy of learning that his daughter can sit up all on her own now.

Time goes on (but doesn't), and with every passing (repeating) day, Robin misses his family more and more.

When Valentine's Day arrives, he chooses the most beautiful purple buttercup at the flowershop, ready to send it her way with the assurance that he will keep his promise of sending her flowers more often. But as he heads home, pretty bloom in hand, it strikes him as odd how the shop is full of what he knows are February flowers despite it being "September," and he realizes then that this must be part of the tether to Regina's timeline. He writes to her, sends the flower along with words of love and nostalgia, and mentions the curious little detail.

Her following letter comes with answers, and hope sparks in him anew at the evidence that they are indeed getting closer to seeing each other again.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _Thank you for the lovely flower._

 _I've spoken to The Dragon about your observations, and he seems to think it does have some relation to this timeline, but not in the way you think...  
_

She goes on to explain that it's not exactly part of what ties the two timelines together, like Robin had guessed, but rather that because he'd sent her a flower through the book and into her timeline, it had affected the shop somehow. The Dragon doesn't seem to be worried about lasting effects, she tells him. It's been a while since Robin sent her that first bloom, and other than the flowers at the shop changing with Regina's seasons, it hasn't had any consequences.

The words are a comfort, a glimpse of proof that they're on the right track, that the magic _is_ bringing them together, and Robin is glad for tangible evidence. At least now he has something _new_ to look forward to every morning.

Regina wishes him a happy Valentine's Day, includes a set of pictures that send his heart racing. They're nowhere near as risqué as the ones she'd sent a couple of months ago, but she's made them special just the same (and they're all special, because they're all her). In these she's in _that_ skirt, and _that_ shirt. The ones he'd peeled off of her with kisses and intimate caresses that fated first morning in her vault. He remembers how she looked then, flushed and disheveled in her beauty, cheeks pink and skin warm to the touch.

She knows exactly what that outfit does to him, the memories it brings, and he knows she's done this on purpose, because there she is, in her bed inside the vault, several pictures depicting a sequence of her undressing for him, removing that burgundy colored shirt and that tight black skirt to reveal... Yes, that's it, that's the set of black French lace that had driven him wild, that had made him bury his face between her legs until she screamed his name into the early morning.

It's a callback to happier times, to when their biggest problem was a frozen wife (and how curious, he thinks, that such a thing is now the less daunting of their many trials), and not obliterating crystals and angered gods or a wall of magical timelocks.

He adds her new photo session to the ever-growing box of them he keeps under his bed, pulls them out later that night and adds these new images to his fantasies of her. Pictures her touching herself on that bed after taking the photos, thinking of him, missing his touch just as much as he misses the warmth of her body, the gentle dips and curves of it.

He comes with a gasp, and much like every other night lately, he showers off the sticky evidence of his pining and goes to bed with that dull but ever-present ache in his chest.

* * *

February is coming to an end (in Regina's timeline, anyway) and Robin is exhausted.

He's been volunteering at an animal shelter the last few days, had found a pamphlet for it at Dr. Anita's office during Perdita's "monthly" checkup (it's always more of a first appointment for the good doctor, considering how time moves here —or doesn't, rather— but it's a checkup nonetheless) and decided to give it a try. If only so he'd have something to do.

It's a bit tedious, introducing himself every single day and filling out the forms, but he gets to interact with the hoard of scraggly, playful mutts that live there. He's allowed to bring Perdita along, and on most days it goes incredibly well, but today she'd gotten into a bit of a scuffle with one of the older, crankier dogs in the shelter, and the stress of it all has tired them both out.

Robin is looking forward to a night in. He might order some take-out, watch a movie, and write to Regina for a bit, hoping she's there to read and give immediate reply to his notes.

He's almost at the door, ready to leave this trying day behind when a high-pitched _Hi, there!_ stops him and Perdita in their tracks.

The frustrated sigh breaks out of him before he can stop it, and he turns with a hopefully-concealed roll of his eyes to greet her, a forced smile on his face as he says, "Hello, Caroline."

"You know my name?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and Robin mentally curses himself for the slip.

"I, uh... I heard someone call out for you this morning when I stepped out," he supplies quickly, remembering the overeager _Good morning, Caroline!_ young Jim Hawkins in 7B throws her way every day as he leaves for school. He's got a hell of a crush, that boy, Robin almost feels sorry for him.

"Oh, I'm Robin," he offers, when he realizes Caroline has expectantly held out her hand for him to shake.

"Nice to meet you," she says, her voice going low as she looks him up and down. It's uncomfortable, and awkward as he's standing there still about to reach for his door, Perdita half-snarling at the woman who's interrupted their mission to get inside and rest for the night.

"Are you new here?" she asks, and Robin lies and says that yes, he is, he's just moved in.

Her hands reach up to tussle her blond hair, and she gives him a questionnaire about his life that he tries to fill in as vaguely as possible, poorly disguising his empty answers as humor. She laughs a little too loudly at his attempts, praises his quirky phrases a little too much, and just when he's finally thought himself free of her metaphorical clutches, she goes in for the kill.

"So... Robin," she says. "In all our chatting you failed to mention a girlfriend or wife, so... would you be interested in dinner sometime?"

There's a moment there, where she straightens a bit, juts out her chest in that way she does whenever she tries to hit on him. It annoys him now, that tell-tale sign of flirtation, has him rolling his eyes before he can think to be polite. If she catches it, she doesn't let on, rather stands just a little bit closer to him and bats her eyelashes, her voice low as she adds, "I'd quite like to get to know you better."

"No," he snaps, backing away when her closeness brings him terrible memories of this place, of finding out he'd been... no, he won't think of that right now. But he needs this woman as far away from him as possible.

At least his candor has her stepping back a pace, giving him room to breathe and word his answer better while she stumbles around an "I'm... I'm sorry."

That makes him feel guilty, because she can't know how many times they've been through this, she doesn't remember what hasn't yet happened for her. And she can't know why he's recoiling from her like this, but it's... she can't just expect him to... he's...

Robin sighs then, tells her, "I'm sorry if you thought that we were... that's not what this was, I was only being polite to a neighbor, I'm not looking for anything."

"May I ask why that is?" she's looking at him with rapt curiosity, interested in his answer, for once, instead of his arse.

And well, it's not like it's a secret, he'll shout it from the rooftops if he can, he's just not used to talking to strangers about something so personal.

"I'm in love with someone else," he tells her firmly, unable to help the smile that almost splits his face in two as he adds, "Very much in love."

"Oh, I... I didn't know."

"Yes, well... you just met me," Robin reminds her, more to remark on her too-forward advances than to excuse her lack of knowledge of his relationship status.

Perdita merely growls at their blonde neighbor, much to Robin's amusement.

"I'm sorry," Caroline says, sounding truly so, "I'm just... gonna go back inside and pretend this never happened."

She's blushing, embarrassed, and Robin gives her a warm smile, wishes her a good day, and continues on his way, pausing at his door to let Perdita in first.

The dog trots inside with an air of royal contempt about her that oddly reminds Robin of Regina's haughtiness during that rocky year in the Enchanted Forest, and suddenly he's struck by how far they've come since then. How many times they've faced obstacles together, how many words of love and comfort they've exchanged over the time they've been together.

Gods, he wishes he could hold her right now.

He writes to her while he waits for dinner to arrive (he opts for Mongolian barbecue from a place two blocks away, simply because it makes him feel closer to Regina and Henry), and tells her about Caroline. He's offhanded about it, lighthearted and casual, really, merely tells it like some silly anecdote he thinks might entertain her, but it doesn't occur to him that he's telling his soul mate, who is trapped in the past without him, that another woman has been trying to catch his eye.

Nerves settle in as he finds her answering letter waiting in the book a half hour later, and he opens it with shaky hands, only to chuckle from the very first sentence.

 _I may or may not be working on a potion that will teach this woman to accept NO for an answer._

 _Maybe I'll even add a sleeping curse to it, seeing as it's my specialty..._

He scribbles his answer on the same paper, his messy scrawls looking even sloppier under the elegant loops of her penmanship.

 _I must say, I quite enjoy this little possessive side of you. It's... arousing._

 _As I explained, I made it very clear to Caroline that I'm in love, and have no interest in her, or anyone else, for that matter. No need for sleeping curses or the like, milady._

The same page shows up again a few minutes later, her reply on the back of it.

 _Caroline? Blonde, perky, insufferably shrill Caroline from next door?_

Robin smiles, then writes back.

 _Ah, so you know her, then._

Regina's answer comes in a new page, her answer a little longer now as she explains.

 _She moved here before Christmas. With very, very loud movers. At six in the morning on a Friday. Frankly I'm surprised Bess didn't wake up and scream, with all the noise they were making. I've seen her in the hallway a few times. Annoyingly chipper. Can't say I'm a fan._

Ah, of course, Robin remembers now how Caroline had told him, during one of their many introductions, that she's been living here for about nine or ten months. It's... strange, knowing that this one person has met them both, yet has no idea of the significance of that.

 _If anything, my love, it's just a reassurance that you're getting closer and closer to me. Who knows? Maybe we'll "meet" her together at some point._

Her answer is a little clipped, but not in a way that he feels slighted. Rather, he enjoys the possessiveness of her character when she writes back:

 _Good, maybe I can teach her to keep her hands off what doesn't belong to her._

He can picture her face right now, lips pursed in annoyance, eyes rolling as she thinks of Caroline's advances, and he pens a short reply to tease her.

 _Jealous, Your Majesty?_

He's teasing her, joking to get a smile out of her (kind of... he really does enjoy this bit of possessiveness to her character), but her reply is dead serious, and it has warmth spreading through him.

 _I have no reason to be._

He sends his answer in yet another page, folding it along with the other two.

 _Overprotective then? he asks._

 _A little territorial, maybe,_ she answers, and he decides to go with that, too, taunting her a little in hopes of getting one of her more... sensual replies.

 _Will you be territorial if we do meet her, I wonder? It's very sexy._

When she writes back, she's teasing him a little, but he can detect a bit of hostility towards Caroline still.

 _Only if she gets on my nerves, which is something she seems to accomplish quite often. And I'll be as... territorial with you as you want me to be when we're alone, thief._

As much as he wants to continue with the more racy responses, Robin feels a need to reassure her, to remind her that Caroline is innocent, after all, and that regardless of her intentions, he'd never look her way.

 _She doesn't remember meeting me, my love. To her, every time she sees me is the first time, and I suppose it's part of her nature to seek out my attentions, but I never give them to her. You have nothing to worry about. I love you. No one else._

Her answer is a short, simple _I love you, too, Robin_ that makes his very skin tingle with happiness.

And before he can send the letter back with a more flirtatious comment, a little yellow Post-It suddenly appears, stuck to the top of the page on which the book has fallen open.

 _But if she interrupts my sleep again, I'll fillet the bitch._

Robin laughs at her afterthought, shaking his head as he wonders, for what feels like the billionth time, what he ever did to deserve such a feisty, beautiful, incredible woman.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Happy Friday!_**

 ** _Just to let you know, things will start moving up really soon. I know it might seem frustrating right now with all the days they have ahead before the timelines merge, but it's necessary for the story, and I promise everything will start going a little faster in the next couple of chapters, so please bear with me._**

* * *

Regina never thought she'd be more depressed over Robin than she was at Christmas, when she'd been forced to ponder on all the beautiful moments they were missing out on as a family, with Roland and Bess and Henry. She'd thought that would be the worst holiday, the most excruciating.

But it's Saint Patrick's Day, and everything, absolutely everything, is green.

Shamrocks and flags and drinks and food, all of it green, and the vibrant color triggers memories of Robin no matter where she is. What's worse, there's nothing for her to do on the holiday, nothing to work on, nothing to distract her.

At least for Christmas she'd busied herself with preparations and gift-wrapping, and on Valentine's Day they'd managed to tease each other enough to make for a very interesting night, despite the nostalgia. But there doesn't seem to be anything to occupy her today except the painful reminder of how much she misses her soul mate. Unless of course, you count drinking green beer or attending a parade while not-quite-rain-not-quite-snow falls down upon you, neither of which are prospects she'd like to engage in.

But Henry had wanted to experience the holiday in New York, and she hadn't been able to say no to the second of those dire entertainment options. So here they are, finding a somewhat less crowded spot towards the end of the parade, watching the last of the marching bands and riverdancers move through the streets.

One of the dancers currently prancing on the pavement has decorated her auburn curls with a beautiful white anemone, and Regina thinks back to the one she has on a vase at home, nestled amongst other March blooms that Robin has sent her, all protected by a simple but strong preservation spell, and she sighs wistfully as she hoists Bess a little tighter against her body.

There are men in green jackets and shirts everywhere, men who speak with accents, men with sunkissed skin and light hair and scruff. Regina suddenly dislikes the Irish, dislikes their constant similarity to the man she's so in love with, and whose absence hurts that much more now that she's surrounded with walking reminders.

"Mom, we should get shamrock shakes," Henry suggests, and she raises an eyebrow.

"What exactly is _in_ a shamrock shake?"

"I... don't really know," he confesses, "but it's minty."

She wants to make a comment about the amount of sugar in that shake, but it somehow doesn't feel right anymore, not with Henry being this much older. It's a constant battle, trying to adjust to her son being so grown-up, but then there are days like today, when he's all smiles and pink cheeks and pure joy. Days that bring back memories of simpler times, when he was five and all he wanted was a cookie and a movie night, or when he was two and wobbled around the living room, gurgling and laughing.

So no, she won't reprimand him for wanting to "fill his tummy" with sugar. He'll eat his vegetables at dinner anyway, and besides, it's a holiday.

The drink is... well... disgusting, if she's honest. One sip and she's pursing her lips in distaste, handing the cup back to Henry and pulling Bess's jacket more tightly around her.

The sun has won over the indecisiveness of the clouds, peeking through and warming their faces as the very last cluster of riverdancers wave them goodbye, the crowd following behind them. Regina stays behind with Henry and the baby, waiting until the path has cleared somewhat so that they can make their way back to the apartment four blocks away.

She's in boots, and dark jeans, and a peacoat. Not exactly her usual mayoral attire, but definitely comfortable, and warm enough against the chilly day. The baby is all bundled up, too, safe from the cold, but they've been outside for nearly three hours now, it's time to get back.

She's finally entered the building, a relieved sigh escaping her mere seconds before someone bumps into her, jostling the dozing baby girl in her arms and waking her up with a startled cry.

"Oh, woops! Excuse me," says a far too familiar voice, blonde tresses blocking Regina's view as the woman before her hovers her hands over Bess in an attempt to settle her.

"Do you not watch where you're going?!" she snaps at Caroline, who is stunned into silence, her cooing and nervous smile replaced by a hurt look that would move Regina if she wasn't so annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I... I was in a hurry, I didn't see—"

"Of course you didn't see," Regina drawls, "you were too busy barreling down the stairs to take in the sleeping infant!"

"I didn't mean to wake her, I was just—" she starts but Regina won't have it.

"Yes, I'm sure you didn't," she fires back. "Would it kill you to pay attention?"

"Mom," Henry whispers condescendingly, and Regina rounds on him.

"She woke up your sister!"

All through this, Bess is whining in her hold, almost crying, but not quite, too sleepy and confused still to have a proper reaction.

"It wasn't my intention!" Caroline half-shrieks.

"It never is, is it?" Regina mutters sarcastically, then looking at her neighbor expectantly as she asks, "Well?! Can we get home, or do you insist on blocking the way, too?!"

Caroline huffs, but says nothing, flipping her hair and walking away with a rather immature _Whatever_.

Regina is still bristling, climbing up the stairs and bouncing Bess in her arms at the same time, calming her down now that she's decided she does not like it when Regina is mad.

As they're entering the apartment, she hears a snicker, and turns to find her son shaking his head at her.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" he teases.

"No," she insists, because she's _not_ , dammit. "I just can't stand her."

"And the fact that she moved on Robin has nothing to do with it," her son prods, grinning at her reaction.

She's really starting to regret telling Henry about that. She hadn't even meant to do it, but after that first letter where Robin told her of his... dynamic with the woman, Regina had practically hissed at their neighbor whenever she walked past them, never saying a thing, only staring at her like she'd done something heinous.

Regina does not consider herself a jealous woman. At least not in this sense. She's never exactly had a romantic partner to be jealous over. But knowing that Caroline had tried to flirt with Robin, to engage with him romantically even after he'd said no... it irks her. And she knows, she knows it's irrational, and that Robin has never welcomed her advances, nor has Caroline done anything wrong, exactly. But she can't help it.

Henry had caught on to his mother's attitude with the pretty neighbor, of course, because her son is too perceptive for his own good. He'd asked, and Regina, in the interest of never again keeping secrets from her son, just as she'd promised all those years ago, had told him the truth.

He's been mocking her for it ever since.

"I don't find it funny, young man," she fires at her son, Bess now happily nestled in her Pack-n-Play.

"You were too hard on her," he tells her, that glint of amusement still in his eye.

"Did you not see how she shook the baby awake?"

"Yes," Henry admits. "And she was apologizing for that but you kept talking over her."

"Her apology isn't going to get Elizabeth back to sleep," Regina pushes on, her tone bordering on petulant.

"And you being mean to her for something she hasn't even done yet isn't going to make our lives here any easier, mom. She's our neighbor," he persists, though his voice remains gentle.

Regina exhales, her brow furrowed in annoyance as she tells him, "Fine, I won't be 'mean' to her."

Henry looks happy that she's conceded on this, and she hates having to admit she's in the wrong, but it's true. Caroline has not yet done the things Regina already despises her for, and it's ridiculous to resent someone over something so silly anyway.

"I don't know why it's affecting me so much," she confesses to her son, because she really doesn't.

"You love Robin, and he's been taken from you so many times, it's okay to be a little overprotective, mom, I get it. Just... don't be mean to poor Caroline, she's already scared of you."

At that, her mood brightens, giving Henry an impish grin as she tells him, "Good."

* * *

The first Thursday of April, Henry comes home from school looking dejected.

Regina is cradling Bess to her chest, giving her gentle little bounces on instinct as she walks around the living room to keep her calm and sleepy.

"What's wrong, Henry?" she asks, and he lets out a long breath in response, waves her off.

"Nothing, it's stupid."

Regina stops then, and Bess fusses a little bit, but settles easily into her Pack-n-Play while Regina moves to her son.

"It's not stupid, and clearly something's bothering you, so please, tell me."

He sighs again, swallows and tells her, "They closed down the Mongolian place."

Oh. That's... not what she was expecting.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"I know it's dumb," he tells her, "but it was like, my favorite place. I really wanted to take Violet there sometime."

Regina wants to laugh, not because his sadness is due to something silly, but because he looks adorable when he pouts like that. It takes her back to his earlier years, when not having his favorite food was the end of the world.

"Do you remember when you were little..." she starts, sitting on the couch and patting the spot right next to her, "and you ate all the mini mozzarella balls I had in the fridge?"

Henry chuckles a little at that, nods his head and rests it on her shoulder.

"You were the saddest little boy in all the kingdoms, and all because you didn't get a chance to—"

"Say goodbye to the mozzarella," he says with her.

"You were so heartbroken you couldn't enjoy your last bite," she teases.

"I didn't know you could buy more at the store!" Henry defends, chuckling at the memory.

"Such a pouty four-year-old," Regina adds. "But all I had to do to make you smile was buy more mozzarella."

"I'd settle for some shrimp and veggies right now," he says wistfully.

"Is that all?" she laughs, putting her arm around him. "There'll be other places."

"Yeah, I know it's silly. It's just... they knew me there, and Mr. Dashi was nice to me and always said I was his favorite client... I liked it there."

"Well, we knew this would happen eventually," she reminds him. "Remember how Robin said there's a bakery there in his timeline? I'm assuming this is why."

"Yeah, makes sense." Henry sighs, getting up from his spot beside her and telling her, "Do you think you can make some of your recipe for dinner?"

"I thought you said it's not the same thing," Regina raises her eyebrow at him, and her son smiles sheepishly.

"Mr. Dashi would sneak in free dumplings for me," he reveals, and ah, of course.

"But yours is still really good," he assures her, turning on the puppy eyes that would get him just about anything when he was a pudgy-cheeked baby boy. She's learned to resist that look, so it doesn't affect her as much as he probably thinks it will.

What does affect her, though, what does pull at her heartstrings and makes her heart swell with love, is how utterly excited Henry gets when she agrees to make him that shrimp-and-veggie stir fry for dinner.

"But you, young man," she tacks on, "are heading to the store and bringing me what I need."

"Of course, mom," he grins, grabbing the magnetic notepad from the fridge and handing it to her.

* * *

 _Hello, sis._

 _I just wanted to let you know I'm alright. I've been visiting several places that have meaning to me. Some are a little daunting (most of them, really), but it's helping me reconnect with who I am, who I was. By the time you receive this, Oz will be far behind, and I'll be in some other location attempting to gain some sort of understanding on how I wound up like this._

 _I've been trying to imagine how my life would've turned out if I had never carried such a desire for revenge in my heart, and it feels as if my entire identity is gone. So many of my choices, of my traits, were all based on revenge, to the point where now that I don't need it, I feel as if I've lost myself._

 _I know that none of this excuses what I did, and that you have every right to be angry with me. I don't seek your forgiveness, I know I have not earned it. I just want you to please try and understand that there is no malice behind my choice, I only want to find out who I am now, and how I can be better, like you._

 _Thank you for loving my daughter, for watching over her as I'm sure you were always meant to. I love her so much, I miss her more than anything, but I can't. I just can't be the mother she needs right now, I'll only break her like Cora broke you, like she broke me. I don't want that for my child, and you are such a wonderful mom, she deserves that. My baby deserves the childhood you and I never got._

 _I hope to write to you again soon, sis, but in the meantime, I hope everything is going well with you, and that Robin is doing alright. I know it doesn't seem honest, coming from me, but I really do hope you two are reunited soon, and can finally start your lives together._

 _Love,_

 _Zelena._

Regina feels her hand shaking as she reads. Anger and worry and desperation all coursing through her at once.

The last thing she'd expected when she walked into the mansion was to find a raven waiting for her on the windowsill, the envelope in its beak bearing a green seal with the crest of Oz on it.

Henry comes in just behind her, hoisting the car seat with Bess peacefully buckled into it, her happy gurgling and squeals of laughter shaking Regina from her moment of resentment.

She's ten months old today, and already a beautiful copy of her father. Her hair is longer now, floppy waves in the same caramel color as Robin's, her dazzling blue eyes shining with the same mischief Regina is so used to seeing in her favorite thief.

"Is it from Zelena?" Henry asks, noticing the green wax seal on the parchment Regina is holding.

"Yes," she admits, "she says she's trying to figure out who she is now, and that she's grateful that we're watching over Bess."

She sighs defeatedly as she speaks, turns to look at Henry with a grimace she can't quite hold back.

"Let's just enjoy the weekend, mom, Bess is fine, she's happy with us, aren't you, Bess?"

His voice goes perky and excited at the question, and it makes the baby giggle again, kicking her little feet and stretching her arms for him. Henry obeys, takes her out of the carrier and bounces it in his arms. The sight is... well, beautiful, really. To see her son so at peace with Elizabeth, how fully and easily he embraces her as part of the family. It brings her a happiness she never thought she'd have.

They're a family. And Henry is right, Bess is happy with them. That's all that matters.

Roland comes barreling in not twenty minutes after they've arrived, excited to read his newest letter from Robin and to write one in response.

His reading has improved considerably, but he still stumbles adorably over syllables, still scrunches his nose up in the cutest way when he hits a particularly long word.

He stays the night, camps out with Henry in his room, and Regina lets them build a fort with bedsheets and pillows that she knows Henry would normally claim to be too old for, but it seems he tends to forget about his age when he's with Roland.

Roland, however, doesn't stay in bed for long, and shyly knocks on Regina's bedroom door less than two hours after she'd tucked him in and wished him goodnight.

"Is something wrong, Roland?" she asks, worry blooming instantly in her belly.

"No," he says, but he sounds nervous, maybe even a little sad.

"Then what is it? Did you not like your fort? Is your bed okay?"

"'S fine," he mumbles, "I just wanted to come see you. Is that okay?"

"Oh, honey," she breathes. "Of course it's okay, come on, you can stay with me until you fall asleep, alright?"

He seems nervous, still, apprehensive somehow, and it's only when he's cuddled up beside her on the bed while she reads her book that he mutters the real reason he's here.

"Regina?"

She closes her book, puts it back on the night table and she turns to look at him with an acknowledging "Hmm?"

"Is Papa coming home soon?"

There are tears in his eyes as he asks her, and Regina can't stop the knot in her throat from forming, her own tears brimming as she tries to reassure him without lying.

"I... we're hoping for that, sweetheart. Remember how I told you that the magic bringing him back to us is very new? That we don't know what it does?"

He nods, those tears still dangerously close to falling.

"So far, all I can tell you is that yes, that's what will happen. The magic will bring him to us in a few months' time, but I don't know how that will happen or if we'll need to find him first or... I just don't know. But I do know that your papa loves you with his whole heart, and he will do everything he can to come back to you. As will I."

"I miss him," he says simply, and the tears finally spill down his cheeks. Fat, salty drops as his lower lip trembles. He's trying to be strong, trying to hold back the pain of his father's absence, and it kills her.

"I miss him, too, sweetheart," she tells him, breathing through her own tears. "And I know that waiting like this feels terrible, but it's all we can do, okay? We need to be brave. Both of us."

He nods, then curls up against her, his face buried in her stomach as he throws an arm around her and cries silently.

"I miss you, too, when you're gone," he says then, his voice muffled in the fabric of her pajama top, and her heart shrivels up at the words.

"So do I, Roland, I miss you every day," she replies, because it's true. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

"I love you too," he mumbles, cuddling closer.

Regina is at a loss, doesn't exactly know how to stop him from suffering like this, and guilt rises in her gut at the reminder that she's done this to him. Every weekend she comes home to Storybrooke, and every weekend she takes his baby sister and Henry back with her to New York, leaving poor Roland here alone. And yes, he has the Merry Men, but it's not the same, and she wagers the boy craves the touch of a mother in times like this, and that maybe his uncles aren't really able to comfort him, being as confused and heartbroken as he is.

She can't wait for this to be over. For them to be a family again.

Leaning over her bedside table, Regina grabs the iPad she purchased a few days ago, and flips through it until she finds the album of Saint Patrick's Day photos.

"Do you want to look at some pictures?" she asks, and Roland burrows out of his cocoon, his face tear-stained and blotchy as he sniffles away the last of his cries and settles next to her.

She tells him the story behind every single photo, talks and talks about the things they do in New York and relates every single reaction Robin had to the very same images. How he laughed at this one or asked what was wrong with Bess in that one. Roland drinks it all up, and as she goes through the photos for the third time, she notices that his breathing has deepened, his hand still clinging to her pajama top, his little body cuddled into her as he sleeps.

Regina places the iPad on the night table, turns the light off, and decides that tonight, she won't take Roland back to Henry's room.

Tonight, she'll hold this sweet, beautiful boy, and give him all the love and reassurance that he needs.


	20. Chapter 20

**_Happy reading!_**

* * *

He's come to realize that his every action affects the lives of his neighbors.

They still go about their day performing the same tasks on their repeating timeline, but the way they do it is always just a tad different if they interact with him. He supposes it has to do with the fact that they don't _always_ interact with him, and so the few times they do, it changes their timing and manner a little bit.

Today is one of those. He'd bumped into Mrs. Jenkins from next door, and she'd engaged him in an unexpected conversation that, while brief, was still long enough for young Jim in 7B to happen upon it, which doesn't happen on the regular schedule.

Mrs. Jenkins had been telling Robin of a sale at a nearby flower shop, and the lad had asked for details before speeding away in that direction.

Which is why, Robin supposes, Caroline is currently trying to hoist a giant vase full of flowers through her door. It seems Jim has decided to woo her today.

Robin can only hope the boy will still have such bravado when time moves again.

She's struggling, trying to put the key in the lock while carrying that vase and her shopping bags, one of which has started to rip from the weight of the dozen oranges inside it. Robin looks down at Perdita, who huffs an exasperated breath, as if annoyed that they have to help their overbearing neighbor. But Caroline doesn't know him, not really, her past grievances are erased in her mind by a repeating timeline. Maybe this time she won't be so... intense.

Robin leaves Perdita by their door and moves to help, stops those oranges from falling through the clear, flimsy plastic just in time, and helps his neighbor maneuver the vase. She hugs the thing to her side while unlocking her door with her now free hand, telling him to please just drop the bags on her welcome mat, she'll get them in a minute.

Robin does, and then watches as she walks in with her flowers. The arrangement is quite nice, he notices, Jim has done well. Long-stem pink roses and white lilies, arranged among fancy greenery and eucalyptus, the bulk of which stops Caroline from having a direct line of view right now, but she looks at him through the gaps in the stems and thanks him for the help.

"No problem," he tells her with a smile, and is walking away, blissfully unscathed, until...

"I didn't catch your name."

Robin winces.

Out of politeness, and because she cannot know how pushy she's been in their previous encounters, he turns around and offers his name, finding her unburdened, the vase somewhere inside, shopping bags still on the mat.

"Hi, Robin. I'm Caroline," she says in return, extending a hand to him and smiling at him as he shakes it. It seems... normal enough. No looking him up and down, no strange attempts at winking or biting her lip.

"Hello, Caroline," he greets.

Perdita whines a little from her spot, haughtily reminding him she's still there. So he adds, "I don't mean to be rude, but I really need to get her inside."

"Of course," Caroline replies, smiling still, and there's that appreciative rake of her gaze over his body now. And here he was thinking this would be civil.

He says his goodbyes as quickly as he can, walking away and resisting the urge to shiver unpleasantly.

"Hey, Robin?" she calls to him just as he's opening his door. "Would you like to come by for dinner later? Maybe watch a movie?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he tells her.

"Oh," is all she says, her flirty smile instantly turned into a sad, rejected look. "Okay, then."

"I'm sorry if I upset you," Robin says for what feels like the hundredth time. "But there's this woman that I'm very much in love with, and dining alone with you would be disrespectful to her."

"Even if it's only as friends?" Caroline asks, sounding somewhat hopeful.

"Are you really intending for this dinner to just be about friendship?" Robin fires back with a raised eyebrow, and Perdita huffs to support his knowing stare.

"Fair point," she concedes, sighing defeatedly once more. "I guess I'll see you around then," she adds, "at least you're a better neighbor than that bitch who used to live here."

That piques his curiosity, and he fights Perdita's pull on her leash, stops her so he can look back at Caroline.

"Who?" he asks.

"Oh, just some woman who lived here before you did, I don't think I ever learned her name. She had two kids. A baby and a very polite teenager."

That's... wait.

"A teenager?"

"Yeah, I remember he'd apologize to me when she was particularly awful. Which was almost always, mind you. I don't know what on earth I did to her to make her hate me so, but she was horrible to me. I'm still a little scared of her, to tell you the truth."

Suddenly the words _Fillet the bitch_ come to mind, and it all clicks, and Robin can't help the guffaw that breaks out of him.

"What?" Caroline asks, "What's so funny?"

But he can't tell her, partly because he can't talk about magic or merging timelines with her, and partly because he's laughing so hard he can't breathe long enough to get a word out. And he shouldn't laugh, really shouldn't, because Regina has been mean to this poor woman who does not know better, and it's silly for her to be jealous in the first place. But it's just too amusing to find fault in it, and so laugh he does.

"I'm sorry," he says between chuckles, knowing full well it doesn't sound as sincere as it probably should, but just the idea of Regina towering over this pixie of a woman, putting on that daunting Evil Queen facade just to frighten her out of trying to flirt with Robin is just... it's hysterical, is what it is.

Caroline huffs, turns around and walks into her apartment, shutting the door behind her. Robin does the same, laughing all the while, and Perdita only stares at him like he's developed a second head.

He wastes no time, grabs pen and paper, and begins to write.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I've had quite the interesting day._

 _I walked Perdita to the park. Though I stopped by the Capparellis' bakery to "introduce her" to them again. Mrs. Capparelli is so taken with her every time, it's a lovely sight._

 _Do you remember those children I've told you about? The ones that go play softball with their father at the park? They were there again (of course), and they had a lot of fun playing with Perdita. She's so great with kids, I can't wait for her to meet Roland and Henry and Bess._

 _But the fun part was when I got home._

 _You see, I ran into my neighbor, Caroline, and after turning her down yet again, she made a very interesting comment about how I am a much better and less scary neighbor than the last person who lived here..._

 _So, Your Majesty, is there anything you'd like to tell me?_

He sends that along, still smiling his amusement at the whole ordeal. He's curious as to what exactly happened that had Henry apologizing to Caroline for Regina's behavior, and longs to find out just what she's been doing to terrorize their neighbor.

Her answering note is quite funny, and he nearly spits out the sip of orange juice he's drinking when he starts to read.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I have no idea what you're talking about... Whenever I've interacted with that woman, I've been perfectly reasonable.  
_

He shakes his head fondly, and writes back a short reply.

 _Are you sure about that? She seemed quite disgruntled at the mere memory. Even told me Henry had to apologize on your behalf more than once._

It doesn't take more than that for her to finally confess.

 _Okay, fine, she got on my nerves and I may have reacted a little bit more aggressively than I should have. But it was really her fault. She bumped into me and almost knocked your daughter out of my arms the other day. Nothing happened to Bess, of course, but Caroline wasn't even looking where she was going and it would've caused some serious damage if I hadn't been holding the baby._

He supposes she has a right to be angry about that one, but that doesn't explain the weeks of terror that Caroline alleges she lived through with Regina as a neighbor.

 _She said it happened on multiple occasions, though,_ he writes back, chuckling when her answer is a sassy quip that makes him miss her even more.

 _Well, I guess I'll have to continue being hostile, then. Wouldn't want to alter the future._

He scribbles on the same sheet of paper, a joking, _Yes, of course, the timeline is the reason, nothing else._

 _What other reason would there be?_ she answers, and Robin smirks.

 _You're adorable when you're jealous,_ he tells her, and her only reply is a haughty, _Shut up, Robin_ that somehow makes that lovesick tingling in his belly flare and his heart dance with mirth.

 _I love you,_ he writes her, and her answering _I miss you_ cuts deep into his soul.

He looks at his calendar on the fridge, at all the days he's crossed out, and sends back the only answer he can.

 _Only 165 days left, my love._


	21. Chapter 21

**_Hi all! Getting closer!  
_**

 ** _Now, I know some of the dates here may not be entirely accurate, but quite honestly the timeline of the show is so inaccurate that it's impossible for me to keep up with it at this point, and I'm dealing with not one, but TWO timelines of my own making in this story, so keeping those accurate to canon is a bit difficult. Please excuse any little errors you might find on that regard, hopefully there won't be too many._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

CAPPARELLI BAKERY - COMING SOON

The sign is large and loud. A crisp white background with bold red letters, stuck to the door of what Henry used to call his favorite restaurant. Regina doesn't know whether to cry for joy or laugh at the cruel twist of time.

That pesky flame of hope, the one she refuses to admit has been growing bigger and bigger, glows and thrives in the new development, and it's a blessing and a curse all in one.

She can't resist the urge to touch the sign, running her fingers down the length of the shiny plastic material and holding back the gasp she wants to let out. Because it's real, it's there, she can touch it, can feel it.

They're getting closer.

"Can I help you, dear?" a kind voice says from behind her, and Regina turns to find an elderly woman she has never seen before. And yet she knows exactly who it is.

"I was just wondering when you'll open," she answers, turning back to the woman and smiling amicably.

"Should be about a month before everything is set up here, we're moving from Jersey, you see," the woman replies.

"What made you choose New York? Seems oddly chaotic for..." Regina starts, but stops herself just then. Shame coloring her cheeks at her boldness.

"For an old woman?" her new acquaintance supplies, sounding cheerful all the while. "You can say it, dear, it's not like it's a secret."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"Nonsense," the woman waves her off. "It's part of why we wanted to come here, as it happens."

"Oh?" Regina asks, unable to stop smiling at the woman before her. This is her, it's Mrs. Capparelli, Robin's friend.

"We got bored of sleeping on our laurels, you could say. We wanted a more upbeat pace, Frank and I," she tells her, jerking her head back to where a white-haired man who can only be her husband is unloading tools from a cab. He stops, uses his free hand to take off his flat cap and tip it in her direction. Regina waves timidly, and smiles as she finds the man to be exactly as Robin described him.

"And of course, more money wouldn't hurt," Mrs. Capparelli says then, bringing Regina's attention back to her while Mr. Capparelli walks around back to unload his things. "We were getting by alright, but Hoboken is full of old italian bakeries, not good for business when you own an old italian bakery," she says with a laugh.

"I've been told this city has italian bakeries everywhere," Regina argues, and the woman nods, gives her a knowing grin.

"Yes, well, we luckily found the one corner that didn't," she replies, offering her hand to her at last and adding, "Edna Capparelli."

"Regina," she returns, and then the reality of what she's just done catches up with her.

What if this affects something? What if the Capparellis knowing her means Robin's timeline will be altered? She needs to write to him, she needs to write to him now.

Her goodbye is brief, but she manages to be polite, wishes the woman great success with their new venture and promises to come by sometime once it's open (she leaves out the part where she won't be going anywhere near this bakery until Robin is back).

Her letter sounds a bit desperate, but she finds she can't exactly voice her concerns in a way that won't worry him.

 _Robin,_

 _I met the Capparellis today... they're starting to remodel the Mongolian barbecue place to turn it into their bakery. I didn't mean to cross her path, I was just standing by the venue and she was suddenly there. We talked for about five minutes, but I'm worried it may have altered something. Please let me know if it has, so I can figure out a way to fix it._

 _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

When she reads his answer later that day, a long, deep sigh of relief breaks out of her.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _Please do not fret. My day has been exactly the same. No new altercations or anything of the sort._

 _Oddly enough, what did change was that Mrs. Capparelli sort of recognized your picture when I showed it to her (I don't think I ever have before, so I wouldn't know if this is a new development or not). She said you looked familiar, but she couldn't place you. Mr. Capparelli, however, says he definitely remembers a pretty "ragazza" with that lovely smile, and hopes you'll make it back to the bakery sometime._

 _Of course, now that Mrs. Capparelli knows you're the woman I'm in love with and the reason I've been sighing into my coffee since she met me, she insists that it's a sign that we both happened to find her bakery, and she's convinced that the place has magic, though I insisted it was nothing of the sort, not on her end, anyway._

 _I can tell how afraid you are that things have taken a bad turn, but I promise you they have not. Tomorrow, Mrs. Capparelli won't remember that I showed her your picture, and she will go about her day as she normally would. Nothing has changed, my love, it's alright._

 _Now tell me, is Henry still mourning the Mongolian place? How's Bess doing today?_

 _I miss you,_

 _Robin._

The letter soothes her, vanishes that thread of concern she'd been pulling at from the inside of her heart. They're safe, nothing's happened. They're still moving towards the merge.

However, Regina decides it's still better to be cautious. It seems the Capparellis don't mention having seen her again after the day they met her, so she'll have to keep to that. She'll stay clear of the couple and that bakery until the timelines have converged. Until she and Robin can visit them together.

For some reason, that makes her smile. She pictures it. Her and Robin, both walking hand in hand into the bakery, putting a smile on that kind woman's face as they try her pastries, her husband in his sweater vest and flat cap sharing a cup of coffee with them. Just the idea of it brings Regina immeasurable joy.

Perhaps the old woman is right. Perhaps there will be magic at the bakery, after all.

* * *

Coincidentally, the place opens mid-April, on Elizabeth's very first birthday. Regina finds out because Henry buys a small birthday cake there. He tells her he didn't give them his name, opting instead for calling himself Neal to avoid forming any more connections to Robin. **Just in case, he says, and Regina thanks him with a watery smile.

She watches as the little princess of the house bounces happily to Henry's upbeat rendition of the birthday song, her tiny hands eagerly banging against the tray on her high chair as she giggles and somewhat mimics the sounds, much to her own amusement. Regina films the entire thing on her phone, and tells Robin every detail, lets him know that there will be video of it all waiting for him when he returns.

He's morose, sad that he's missing it, and writes back to thank her for making the day special for Elizabeth, even if she won't remember it.

 _She had no idea what was going on,_ Regina tells him in her next letter, _but she knew she was being celebrated somehow, she was enjoying the attention quite a bit._

As soon as she places the paper inside the book, Bess babbles and points at it, and Regina smiles.

Henry puts the baby on her lap, then sits on the floor and plays a bit with her little feet while Regina finds the page she wants. And then she begins to read.

"Once upon a time in Sherwood Forest, there lived a thief..."

Bess is instantly enraptured by the tale, her big blue eyes staring straight at Regina, shifting toward Henry whenever the book is handed to him so he can do the voices of certain characters.

"'Oh, no! Foiled again!' cried the Sheriff of Nottingham, when he realized his gold was missing." Henry reads smoothly, evenly, but spikes his tone up into a raspy, squeaky thing during the Sheriff's dialogue, making Bess laugh and clap her hands, "And out of the tent came Robin Hood, who bowed and winked at the Sheriff before he disappeared with the bags of golden coins..."

Regina takes the book again, chuckles softly at the way Bess tries to grab the pages but misses, and finishes the paragraph...

"That same day, Robin Hood, Little John, and the rest of the Merry Men all went back to Sherwood, where the poorest families in the kingdom were waiting... Robin climbed atop the lowest branch in the highest tree, and threw the golden coins into the air..."

She trails off then, closing the book and placing it back on the table where it belongs, then holding the baby closer and clearing up a few details.

"Your father," she starts, "cannot climb trees to save his life, so don't believe that."

Henry laughs at that, and when he does, Bess joins in.

"What he really did," Regina continues her explanation, remembering Robin's true tale, "was make smaller little bags of coins, and then he delivered one little bag to each of the families in the village. And then your uncle John got caught by one of the Sheriff's men!"

Henry is listening intently, taking in the story he has not heard before, and he gasps when he hears about John. Bess turns to look at him, then back at Regina with a questioning stare.

"Not to worry, little dove," she tells her, "Your papa rescued him that very night. He knocked out one of the prison guards and took his uniform and his keys. He opened Little John's cell and freed him, and together they ran back to Sherwood."

She bounces two fingers up the baby's knee as she says the last sentence, and then tickles her belly when she reaches it, laughing along with her.

It's a simple first birthday, but a beautiful one, and Bess's laughter lights up the entire apartment. Regina is so taken with the moment that she doesn't notice Henry grabbing his camera, but minutes later, he hands her a photo from his printer. There she is, the beautiful, now one year old baby girl, waving her hands wildly, big blue eyes sparkling with happiness, her smile bright and perfect, chocolate buttercream painting her bright, dimpled smile. And she looks so much like Robin that it takes Regina's breath away.

She places the photo in the book with nothing but a Post-It glued to the back with a simple caption.

 _Her father's daughter._

* * *

On May 8th, she wakes up with sadness weighing in her heart, and it's not until she looks at the calendar that she realizes why.

It's been a year to the day, a whole year since that horrible crystal and Hades's plotting took Robin away from her.

He's alive, she reminds herself, alive and well and waiting. But the pain of losing him is still a fresh wound in her soul, the image of his body falling lifeless on the floor of her office is still a memory that haunts her, and today, on the anniversary of that ill-fated day, she cries for him.

He's been gone a full year, and the ache that his absence has ignited in her heart is overwhelming.

It's a Sunday, and she's in Storybrooke, should be getting on the road soon to return to New York, but one look at Roland when he tiptoes into her bedroom and she just knows how aware he is of the significance of the day.

She says nothing while he stands there at the foot of her bed, only opens her arms and invites him in for a hug, one that he returns fiercely as he sniffles into the silky blue fabric of her pajama top.

They rock back and forth in their embrace, quiet but weary, and all the while, Regina wracks her brain for something to ease his pain, something to make him feel better about this wretched day that is no more.

"Roland," she says softly when she finally thinks of something. "Would you like to go on a little field trip with me?"

He nods slowly into her shirt, but remains hidden in her arms, his own wrapping around her neck and holding there for a few more moments before she gives him a little squeeze and lets him go, prompting, "Why don't you go get dressed? I'll grab us some breakfast and we can go have a little picnic, just the two of us."

He nods again, mutters an _Okay_ that almost breaks her heart, and then he shuffles on out of the room, dragging his feet just a little bit as he disappears down the hall. Regina then takes a deep breath, shoves the covers off her lap, and rises, ready to face this hellish day.

She takes him to the cemetery, to the place where Robin's grave had been. It's been cleared out now, replaced by rose bushes that Mr. French had graciously planted there as a way to help Roland understand that his father is no longer here, but alive and well somewhere else. Little white rosebuds dot the thorny green stems, adorning their surroundings as they sit on the blue-and-white checkered tablecloth Regina has brought for them. It's a little eerie for a family outing, but it's the only thing she could think of that might help.

The picnic basket she's packed is full of fruit and a couple of blueberry muffins, as well as juice boxes and napkins, but Roland doesn't grab any of it, merely sits there and absently thumbs the petals of the rose nearest to them.

"Tell me what your favorite thing is about your papa," Regina says then, catching his eyes with her own, urging him to speak as she grabs one of the muffins and hands it to him.

At first, Roland simply picks at it, still staring off into space, but her question gets him talking, gets him to break a little bit from that grief-induced trance he'd seemed to retire into.

"He's the best archer in all the kingdoms," he tells her, managing a small smile as he details, "His arrows never miss their mark. He said I'll be just like him when I grow up."

"I'm sure you will be," Regina gives, and then her smile stops forming when Roland turns the question around on her.

"What about you? What's your favorite thing about Papa?"

Where to even begin?

He's... well, stubborn, and courageous, and noble, and chooses to follow his heart. He likes to help people, he doesn't judge her, he loves her son, loves _her_ without any regard for her past (or maybe because of it), and he's always looking for ways to show it...

"I like how persistent he is," she settles on, thinking back to stolen moments during their no-longer Missing Year, when he'd offer comfort despite her lashing out at every turn. When he'd bestow nothing but gentle touches and kind words until she'd surrender to his embrace. She recalls their time in Camelot, the way he'd always be there for her, even when she said no. Thinks back to their time in the Underworld, even to how he died protecting her, how he never wavered on his conviction that she deserved to be loved, deserved to be happy.

"What's 'persistent'?" Roland asks, and Regina breathes out a soft laugh.

"It means that he never gives up. I love that about him," she explains.

"He always said we couldn't give up on you," Roland tells her then, and that's news to her, so she raises a curious eyebrow, waits for him to elaborate. "Back in the Enchanted Forest. You were so sad because Henry wasn't there, and you always wanted to be alone, and Papa always said we couldn't give up on you, that you needed someone to take care of you, because you're always the one taking care of everybody else."

She doesn't realize she's crying until the salty taste of her tears reaches her tongue, her mouth half open in astonishment at the little boy's revelation. Roland crawls a little closer to her then, and reaches out to wipe the evidence of her heartache away.

"He also said we should do nice things for you while you were sad, like make you dinner. And we tried, once, but he's not very good at cooking."

She laughs at that, a wet sort of chuckle that makes Roland smile, his worry over her tears evaporating quickly as Regina tells him, "He really is a terrible cook."

Roland surprises her with, "It's another of my favorite things about him."

"Really? And why are you so taken with your father's terrible kitchen skills?" She asks curiously, opening the little container of apple slices and nabbing one, just to give her hands something to do. Roland answers her question while she takes a crisp bite into the fruit, and it doesn't escape her that he's finally begun to eat.

"He thinks I don't know. He always gets Tuck to cook, or he finds food somewhere else. Good food. And then says he made it but he didn't, he burns ours," he explains with a laugh, munching on a bite of muffin, then leaning forward conspiratorially and begging her, "Please don't tell him I know."

"I won't," she promises, adds, "But that might change now that he's taking cooking lessons in New York. He's always talking about how much he wants to cook all your favorite things. He might actually get them right this time. Would you be okay with that?"

Roland nods then, swallows yet another bite of his muffin, and tells her, "I don't mind, just as long as he's here."

A pause follows. Long and heavy, and then he asks, "He'll come back. Right, Regina?" and her world plummets.

Something in the way he says it has tears welling up in her eyes, tears she has to blink back as she nods fervently and warbles a _Yes, sweetheart, he will._

The pain lingers as she and Henry say their goodbyes later that day, settles in her heart during her drive back to New York; grips it so hard she doesn't know when she'll be able to breathe properly again.

That night, as soon as she walks into the apartment, she writes to Robin, tells him about her day with Roland, about how hard it was to get through the day, how much it hurts to remember, _And I know it's silly_ , she tells him at the end of her letter, _because you're alive, and I'll be seeing you again soon, but it still tears me up inside to know that you're gone._

He writes back almost immediately, a short paragraph that offers far more comfort than she'd expected.

 _It's not silly, I understand. And I miss you, too._

 _We'll be together soon, and all of this will be over, and we'll be able to start our life together._

He goes on to tell her how much he loves her, how he's sure that nothing will stop their timelines from merging, how he longs to hold her and tell her out loud how much he's missed her, how she has nothing to fear, because he's not going anywhere.

 _I'll wait for you until the end of time, Regina_ , he writes, and it's not the first time he's said that, but it still makes this rush of _feeling_ go through her. _It's almost over, love,_ he adds, _we just have to be patient._

He's right. It'll all be over soon. And she knows she shouldn't be so sad over the anniversary of a death that didn't even happen in the end. But the thing is, it did for _her_. She saw it, felt it, despite him being alive in another timeline, she watched him give his life for her, and it's an image she cannot shake away.

Regina puts on a brave face, though, writes back that he's right, and that she misses him, and shares stories of Bess and Henry, tells him about the sweet phone call she had with Roland as she drove into the City (he had insisted that she call to let him know she'd made it back alright), all things to keep him informed on the goings-on of their lives. But it backfires.

 _I can't believe I've been gone a full year_ , he writes.

 _I've missed so much of my children's lives, of our lives, Regina. I've been without you all for so long, I sometimes wonder if it's driving me truly and completely mad with grief._

 _It hurts me that you mourned me, that you thought I was gone forever... I can't imagine what that must have been like for you, and I am so sorry that this has caused you so much pain, so much sadness. I wish I could be there to tell you personally that I am never leaving again, but I can't, I can't hold you and promise you to be with you forever, because once again we are torn apart, and it tears me up inside._

 _I'm trying, Regina. I'm trying so hard. But we still have 121 days to go. Sometimes I don't know if my sanity will make it._

Oddly enough, the need to comfort him overpowers her own hesitations and fears, and Regina finds herself consoling him now, offering some of the words he's sent her way when she can't bear his absence.

 _This will not beat us, Robin. You've said it before, we won't give up on each other, and in just a few months this will all be over and we can pick up where we left off. Or start anew if you want. We can do anything we want. Because we'll be together, and we'll be free to choose our fate, the way you always insisted I could choose mine._

 _It's because of you and Henry that I've learned to accept myself, it's because of you that I finally believed that I could love like this again, that I could have this kind of relationship in my life despite everything I've done, and I need you to believe it, too. I need you to believe in us._

 _We just have to be patient, like you said. Your children are waiting for you. Roland crosses days off his little calendar with such joy, because he knows we're getting closer to seeing you. And he works so hard every single day to perfect his reading just so he can show you when you return. And Elizabeth grows bigger and more beautiful every day. I tell her about her father when I tuck her in at night. Tell her stories of you and the Merry Men, and she enjoys them so much, imagine her absolute happiness when she grows up and realizes Daddy and her favorite hero are the same person..._

It bothers her that she can't send him anything else to ease his sorrows. She'd tried sending memory sticks with videos of the kids, CDs, even a tape once, thinking maybe the older the technology, the easier it would be to get it through, but to no avail. The Dragon has confirmed that organic materials is all the book will transport into Robin's world, something about the magic being connected to natural elements and needing the exchange of said materials to keep the balance between timelines. Regina's not entirely sure how it works, and she's long since given up trying to make sense of the Dragon's "teachings" (the man is cryptic to an annoying degree), so paper and flowers are their only communication for now, much to her chagrin.

She settles for making the letter as honest and hopeful as she can, wishing that it somehow helps him feel better. She closes it with the promise that things will get better for them; that this will end soon and they can stop living through these bits and pieces that don't compare to what they truly have together, and sends the letter along with an imprint of a kiss from her lips right onto the paper next to her name.

His answer knocks the wind right out of her in the best of ways.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I'm sorry if I made you doubt my faith in you even for a second. I promise you that is not the case. I've never believed in anything more than I believe in us. You have my heart, Regina, and I hope that despite all, I still have yours._

 _I don't want to pick up where we left off when this ends, and I don't want to start anew, what I want is for us to start building a life together._

 _I wanted to wait until we found each other again before discussing this, but I figured we might as well, considering we still have so many days left... but Regina, I want us to be together always, I want us to be a family. You, me, Henry and Roland and Bess. I want us under the same roof, building the happy ending we deserve._

 _I guess what I'm saying is... I don't want to live in the forest anymore. I want to live with you. With our children. If you'll have me. You are my future, Regina, and after this, I don't ever want to experience a single day without you._

 _What do you say, Your Majesty? Are you willing to share your mansion with a simple thief and two more kids?_

 _Of course, we could always live together in the forest. I don't care if it's under a bridge, as long as I have you by my side, but I figured pulling you away from your comforts might get me turned into a toad. Needless to say this is ultimately your decision. If you think you're not ready, we can take it slow, but I just wanted you to know. All I want is a life with you, Regina, I'll wait as long as I have to for that._

She scribbles her answer on a Post-It, sticks it to one of the book pages and waits for it to magically disappear. _I love you_ , is all it says, and his answer is just as short, the four words on the little yellow square making her grin.

 _Is that a yes?_

A new sheet of paper has her reply, and she sends it back with happy tears in her eyes.

 _Of course. And you are not just a simple thief, Robin. You're so much more than that._

 _Yes, I'd love for you and Roland and the baby to move in. The mansion is big enough for the five of us, and Henry will love to have the kids around. He's quite talented with Elizabeth, I must say. She's always entranced by him when he reads to her, and nothing makes her laugh harder than his version of John when we read your stories in the book._

 _I have video of it all, and I'm excited to show you everything when you get home_.

His next reply is a short one as well, scribbled right under her own. It's only a few words, but they make something warm and tingly flare up inside her.

 _I cannot wait to get home to you, my love._

* * *

Summer in New York City starts early, and it is a nightmare.

The air is muggy, the heat suffocating, everything is crowded by tourists and New Yorkers alike, and Regina is fairly convinced there's a special place in hell for whoever invented flip flops, because the number of dirty feet she's seen on a daily basis thanks to those things is very, very unsettling.

And there goes another one, Regina thinks as a sweaty man walks by in said horrible footwear. These are electric blue, the chipped toenails and dirt-ridden ankles in them making for a most unpleasant sight.

She officially hates summer.

The only good thing about it is that the countdown is now in the double digits, and she had not foreseen just how much that would comfort her, but it does. It makes the number of days (77 to be exact) seem less daunting, even if in the meantime she has to deal with this horrid season.

Bess is another story. That giggly little ball of energy has nothing but love for the wretched oven that mid June has turned the city into. She thrives in the high temperatures, laughs and gurgles and babbles as she crawls over the soft grass in Central Park, dirtying her little jeans while Regina just sits there fanning herself with the book she'd intended to read during their outing.

At least the sun has started to set now, meaning the breeze picks up the slightest bit, offering a lukewarm reprieve from the exhausting heat.

"Smile!" she hears Henry call, and turns to look at him for a minute, giving him a shy smile as he snaps a photo that she knows will not-so-mysteriously end up in Robin's possession even if she refuses to send it.

Henry has taken to sending Robin photos of her when she's not looking, wanting to show him shots he's particularly proud of even when Regina insists Robin really doesn't need that many pictures of her face (Robin himself insists that there's no such thing as "too many" pictures of her, and welcomes all of Henry's gifts).

Regina supposes she could send the images herself, now that they've established that Robin doesn't mind receiving them, but she likes that Robin and Henry have this little thing between them, likes that they connect and talk through letters sometimes, that Henry has a man in his life that he can talk to when he needs fatherly advice. What's more, she knows Robin loves her son, and the bond the two of them have been building over their own correspondence fills her heart with a new kind of happiness.

Henry suddenly stops taking pictures, and instead points just behind her with an excited whisper of, "Mom, look!"

When she turns, Bess is attempting to stand, holding onto her stroller for purchase as she lifts her little body up and wobbles a bit as she steadies herself. She's been doing this for a few weeks now, grabbing onto things and standing up for a few minutes before she plops back down, and it's adorable to watch.

But today is different. Today, the baby is looking straight at Regina on the other side of their picnic blanket, and looking down at the ground as if considering something.

"Henry," Regina whispers, "grab your phone. I think today's the day." He has his old camera with him, the one that does not take video, and she wants video for this.

"Way ahead of you, mom," he tells her, and out of the corner of her eye she sees a flash of silver as he positions his phone, ready to film.

"Bess? Come here, darling, come on," Regina calls, stretching her arms forward, hands open palm-up as she beckons the baby over. "Come here, baby, you can do it."

She giggles in response, bounces a bit on her feet, shaking the stroller slightly where she holds it with both hands...

And then she lets go, and shakes a bit on her feet, but doesn't fall, chubby arms swaying at her sides as she tries to make sense of her new feat. Slowly, so slowly, she takes one tiny, bouncy step forward, her little white sneakers sinking a bit into the grass.

"That's it, baby, come on," Regina urges, arms still stretched, hands still beckoning her forward, until little by little, Bess begins to move toward her, tottering her way across the picnic blanket in five or six steps before she crashes into Regina's arms with a loud giggle.

"You did it!" she exclaims, holding her close and breathing in the scent of her curls, "You walked! I'm so proud of you, Elizabeth."

"And I got it all on video for Robin when he comes back," Henry adds, moving in to tickle the baby's stomach, her laughter filling the air.

Robin's joy over the news arrives in a letter the very next morning, and they trade notes back and forth where he asks about every little detail at least twice. Regina can't help but smile at his excitement, and tells and retells him the whole story as vividly as she can.

He asks for days afterward, keeps sending letters where his closing words are always _Has my daughter been walking today?_ or _Is Bess having a good time wobbling around the apartment?_ or _How long do you think it'll be before Roland can teach her to wield a bow?_

That last one is a joke, of course, but Regina doesn't miss a beat, and tells him maybe tomorrow Bess can learn how to conjure fireballs with her hand. The banter lasts all week, jokes and flirting and anecdotes sent back and forth in little notes, until she and Henry leave for Storybrooke that Friday.

Robin's letters to Roland rest safely in in the glove compartment of the car, along with a single Post-It that contains Robin's last message to her before she left: _Drive safe. I'll miss you._

On a red light, she chances a glance at the note, and sighs deeply, reminds herself that they only have 74 days to go, and drives on when the light turns green.


	22. Chapter 22

_I'm sorry it's been so long since the last chapter, we've had a few themed weeks to write for and some life changes I've had to work through. Hopefully there's still interest in this story._

* * *

It starts with a whiff of her perfume.

At first, he thinks he's dreaming, that his soul is so broken after missing her for so long that it's made him conjure hallucinations in the night.

But when he comes home to a fogged up mirror despite the absence of steam in the bathroom, he knows something's up.

His calendar of Regina's timeline says it's Friday there, so he knows she'll be on her way to Storybrooke soon. In light of that, he chooses not to tell her just yet, chooses to wait and see what happens over the weekend before he alarms her.

In the two days he spends without her letters, he notices other details. Little things, glimpses so brief he would normally blame on his imagination, but he knows they're real. He sees a flash of red fabric in his closet on Saturday morning, despite the fact that he doesn't own anything in that color. Regina does, though, and he's almost sure what he saw was the lovely red dress she was wearing at Granny's many months ago, when an unsuspecting Henry had walked in on them kissing in the inn's otherwise solitary hallway.

Late on Sunday afternoon, he sees her toothbrush, but the second he blinks, it's gone. And it occurs to him that he's been living in this apartment since May of 2016 while Regina was stuck waiting for time to pass in 2015. They're both in the same year now, and it's June for Regina, meaning they're basically cohabitating in this moment, even when they can't see each other.

It should break his heart, should make him scream his agony that he's so close and yet so far from her, but instead, the new knowledge thrills him, adds a spin of unpredictability to his day. He finds excitement in it, in not knowing when or what the next glimpse into her timeline will be, and spends his weekend trying to find those brief connections, delight rushing through him when he does.

As is now customary for them, he gets a thick envelope full of letters and photos on Sunday night, and he pores over each one like a starved man, drinking in every single word and taking refuge in the stories she tells him of her weekend.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I missed you. This weekend was hectic (they all are, lately), but as always, I loved spending time with Roland. It kills me that he can't come back with us, and he cries every single time I say goodbye, but I still think it's best if we keep him away from New York while this strange branch of magic is connecting us. I don't want to risk his memory potion wearing off and him remembering what happened here with Zelena._

 _You'll be pleased to know he no longer requires any reading assistance. As you know, Snow has been helping him while I'm in New York, and this weekend he showed me how much progress he's made by reading a full children's book to Bess (Rainbow Fish, one of your daughter's favorites) without needing my help to connect his syllables._

 _He's such a strong little boy, Robin, and it breaks my heart that I couldn't bring him with me, but he's counting the days left to see you and he is so very excited to have his papa back with him. He wrote this week's letter to you all on his own, and included several drawings that I think you'll like, including a very true-to-life rendition of John crying as the baby walks toward him (he sniffled and had to wipe away many fat tears from his cheeks, the big softie. Emma and Tuck have teased him relentlessly since it happened, the poor man will never live it down)._

 _Henry took some photos of everyone back home (though far too many of Violet, if you ask me). I've included a few where we're all together at Granny's, and some shots of the kids with the Merry Men and the Charmings._

 _I haven't heard from Zelena again, but a raven showed up carrying an emerald pendant that I'm assuming is a gift from her to the baby. I've put it away in my safe at the office, and it will remain there until she's old enough to wear it without losing it (or putting it in her mouth like it's candy). I know we agreed that Zelena will never be her mother, and this pendant won't change that, I promise you. But Robin, my mother kept so many secrets from me, I don't want to be like her. I love Bess, and I know we both want to be honest with her, tell her where she comes from. When that happens, I want her to have something from the woman who birthed her, if she so wishes. I want her to know that despite all the terrible things my sister did, she still gave her daughter her best chance by leaving her with us.  
_

Robin pauses there, takes a deep breath and rereads the paragraph. It's true that he does not want Zelena to be a part of his daughter's life. But he understands. And he agrees. As painful as it'll be, they will have to tell Bess the truth one day, when she's old enough to understand. If having the pendant will help her accept that truth in any way, he supposes there's no harm in keeping it.

Robin swallows thickly, takes another deep, steadying breath, and continues reading.

 _I'm sorry, I know you don't like discussing Zelena, but it's something I needed to say._

 _Aside from John crying over Elizabeth's wobbly steps, there aren't that many new stories to tell you, just the usual chaos of a big family._

 _Roland misses you, and I try to spend most of my time with him while I'm there, we read books and cook and play in the park, and we talk about you all the time._

 _We visited the place where your grave used to be, and just as we did the week of the anniversary of your death, we sat by the rose bushes Belle's father planted there, and we mentioned our favorite things about you, just like we did that week back in May. You'll be happy to know he still thinks you're the best archer in the world, and says he wants to be as good as you when he's older._

 _He asked me to tell you that he loves you, and that he's being a good boy and a great big brother "Just like Henry," and insisted that I vouch for him on that, so I will. Not that I need to lie about it, he really has been such a wonderful big brother to Elizabeth. She's so happy when he's near. She accidentally hit her hand against the slide at the park, and before she could even shed a tear, Roland was crouched down in front of her, kissing her little finger and promising her it was all going to be okay. Then they got onto the slide together and he held her in front of him as they went down. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. I can't wait for you to experience it for yourself._

 _The drive back was dreadful. We left later than planned, so we got caught up in rush hour traffic, but thankfully we're finally back and ready to sleep._

 _Keep an eye on the book tomorrow. There may be a surprise._

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

Oh, the little minx, teasing him like that. He tries so hard not to imagine what that surprise can be, but he knows, he just knows it will be something sensual, something that will tempt his desire, just as she always does.

The "true to life rendition" of a crying John turns out to be stick figures and messy coloring, in true Roland style, but Robin loves it all the same, and laughs at the depiction of his friend shedding tears bigger than him as his arms stretch toward a smaller stick figure that is leaving the arms of who appears to be Regina.

Robin could cry at how beautiful it all is, knowing these stories, these details, seeing all the photos and drawings... He misses them so much. And they're so close now, he can almost feel them.

He goes to bed smiling, thinking (hoping) that these 72 days they have left will fly by so he can hold them again.

* * *

Regina's surprise is promptly waiting for him inside the book after he walks Perdita the next morning, and with just one look at the new photos, his pulse starts racing.

He'd asked her a while back, if she could take a few of those naughty little shots in her vault, preferably on that bed where they'd shared their first time together. It's one of his favorite memories, one he relives almost daily when he thinks about her. The way she'd surrendered to him, how she'd opened her heart and answered his every declaration of love with one of her own while he buried himself inside her over and over again... It was perhaps the best night of his life up until that point.

There have been many wonderful nights to follow, but it's that one that started it all. It was that night where he'd chosen to listen to his heart and not his mind or his code, and for once he'd truly been free. Free to love her, free to worship her body in every way, free to explore her and watch as she toppled over the edge under his touch and the movements of his hips...

And now, thanks to the photos she's slipped into the little envelope inside the book, he gets to relive that even more vividly than before.

In the first two shots, she's wearing the same outfit she was wearing that night, that red dress that hugs her curves beautifully. Her hair looks a little tousled, her face fixed into a smirk, like she knows exactly what she's doing. On the next one, she's bare from the waist up as she holds the camera next to her head, the bright white star of the flash caught in her big round mirror. And it's there, in her nude reflection, that he can just barely see the fabric of her dress now pooled around her hips, and that makes the photo inexplicably sexier.

The next few photos show her completely naked and sprawled on the bed they'd shared that night, her dress a hint of red in the background, forgotten and thrown over a nearby chest with her black leather jacket. These shots she's taken with magic, he knows, so that her hands are free to roam her body in the exact same way he would (and has) while on that bed.

It's torture, but exquisite in its nature, and he looks at the progression of photos as he thinks of her, gradually stiffening in his jeans without a single touch. Gods, he's desperate for her.

Robin tells her as much, writes back how much he enjoyed her surprise, and relates more of that first night they had together, adds little details of things. He's so caught up in telling her how much he wants her that he forgets to tell her about his new findings, and doesn't even realize it until her answer jogs his memory.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _I keep telling myself that 70 days is nothing, that they'll pass by so fast we won't even notice. And then you tell me these things and it feels as though we still have an eternity to wait until we can be together._

 _I miss you, too. So much. I miss your kisses, and your voice, and the way you touch me. It's been so long that I sometimes think I might've forgotten it. But I could never forget anything about you, or about the way you've made me feel. The way you continue to make me feel._

 _I could've sworn I saw your green jacket in my closet when we arrived last night. I've reached the point where I'm hallucinating your presence, how about that?_

 _I appreciate the compliment, and I admit, those photos were quite a daunting task initially. Contrary to what you might think, I do not have it down to a certain science yet, so finding good angles was not exactly the most fun of activities. But once I started, once I kept thinking about you, imagining you there, remembering our first night together on that bed, I couldn't help how aroused I felt, how much I longed for you to be there with me._

 _I remember how eager you were to undress me that first time. I want that again, that urgency we had. Those stolen moments in my vault were so precious to me..._

The mention of seeing his clothes in her closet startles him into action, has him writing about his little revelation instead of answering her more heated thoughts.

 _Dear Regina,_

 _I'm sorry for killing the mood, but I must tell you, I don't think you imagined my jacket in your closet, I think you did see it._

 _I've been catching peeks into your timeline... or that's what I think they are, anyway. They're mere glimpses. A fogged up mirror, the smell of your perfume, a flash of red from your clothes... it's all so very brief I barely have time to recognize it before it's gone, but I know they're real. I don't know how or why, but I know I can't be imagining it all, and gods, Regina, just the idea that you're there, that we're slowly drifting toward each other, the possibility that one of these days the glimpse I'll catch will be of you... It fills me with happiness._

 _I find myself spending the day just waiting for something, anything, that will give me a peek into your day, into what you're doing. I know it's silly to be so excited about a mere echo, but I can't help it, my day improves exponentially every time I catch one._

 _We're getting closer, my love._

 _See you soon,_

 _Robin._

Before he sends it he adds the flower he'd picked up for her earlier, a fragrant gardenia that had caught his eye when he and Perdita passed the flower shop on their way home. The petals rest softly just outside the pages while the stem is nestled inside them, the lovely, sultry scent so strong he can still smell it after it's gone.

When he arrives at the Capparellis' bakery promptly at 10AM, his smile is still on full blast, his mind still crowded with thoughts of Regina, of her delectable body on display for him in the photos he's stashed in his drawer for later...

"You look chipper today," Mrs. Capparelli greets him, and before he can explain the reason for his good mood, she's bending down to say hello to Perdita, asking, "And who's this?!" for what seems like the millionth time.

"This is Perdita," he answers, as always, explaining, "I've adopted her."

"Oh, she is precious!" Mrs. Capparelli tells him, petting the dog's soft ears and cooing at her as she crouches down. Perdita eats up the attention, of course, maintaining this regal pose as she allows herself to be petted, then sniffing daintily at Mrs. Capparelli's hand.

"Let the poor dog breathe, Edna," Mr. Capparelli interrupts with a coarse laugh. "How ya doin', boy?"

"I'm great, Frank, how are you?" Robin answers, stretching the man's hand.

"Robin has news," Mrs. Capparelli says then, straightening at last.

"Do I?" Robin asks, confused.

"Well, you look way too happy for a Tuesday morning, and that cannot be because you're helping us fix our crappy old oven."

Ah, yes, well, he'll give her that, Robin supposes.

"So tell us what's new!" She insists, bending down to pet Perdita again.

"Nothing, really, just got word from my love, is all."

"Ah, yes, the girl," Mr. Capparelli says, shaking his head knowingly as he smiles. "Of course it's about the girl."

"I get to see her soon," Robin tells him, unable to contain his excitement.

"Oh, that is wonderful, dear!" Mrs. Capparelli jumps in, adding, "You'll bring her by, won't you? We'd love to meet her."

"Of course," he says for what seems the millionth time. She's been asking him to bring Regina in ever since he first met the Capparellis, and Robin is always happy to promise he will. These people are part of his life now, have been his only human companions in all this, despite time stopping them from creating new memories now. He'd love nothing more than to introduce them to Regina.

"Is she beautiful?" Mrs. Capparelli asks then, running her hand gently over Perdita's head. She knows Regina's beautiful, Robin has told her so many times, even before time started to repeat itself, but she likes hearing him talk about her, so Robin obliges.

"Stunning. Inside and out. Never has there been a more beautiful woman in the entire universe," he says easily, because it's true. "Would you like to see her?"

He's shown her pictures before, but only after time stopped, meaning her memory of them always gets reset. So when he takes out the photo of Regina looking out at the fountain (one of the first ones he received from Henry's wonderful lense), Mrs. Capparelli gasps an impressed "Oh, she is gorgeous."

Mr. Capparelli hums his assent from behind her, peeking at the photo and joking, "What's such a pretty girl doing with the likes of you?"

"Damned if I know," Robin answers with a smile, "but I try my best to be deserving of her every day."

"She looks familiar, doesn't she, Frank?" Mrs. Capparelli says, and her husband laughs.

"Everyone looks familiar to you, Edna," he teases, giving her shoulder a soft, affectionate squeeze before he kisses her cheek.

"You really love her, don't you, dear?" Mrs. Capparelli asks Robin, tearing her eyes from the photo and looking up at him. She already knows the answer to that, of course, but Robin tells her again, gladly.

"More than life itself," he says without hesitation. "She's my soulmate, now and forever."

The woman sighs, then turns and smacks her husband's shoulder with an accusing, "How come you never say stuff like that about me?!"

"You're hurtin' me, boy," Mr. Capparelli says then, giving Robin a look of mock exasperation.

"Forty-three years of marriage, not once has this man said anything like that," his wife complains, and Robin chuckles, thinks on his words before he comes up with a proper reply.

"If forty-three years from now, Regina and I are half as happy as you two are, we'll count ourselves the luckiest people in the world," he says at last, and it has Mrs. Capparelli _Awww_ ing at him as she gives Perdita another gentle pat on the head.

"Nice save," Mr. Capparelli commends with a laugh. "Let's get to the oven now, shall we?"

* * *

When Robin walks in the door after lunch, there's a moment of eerie quiet in the apartment, like a vacuum has sucked out all sound, a strange emptiness that drowns the bustle of the city outside. And just as he begins to worry something might be wrong, that strange silence is shattered by a very short, very distant cry from a baby that ends almost as soon as it begins. Anyone else would believe it came from the street, that it's nothing out of the ordinary, but to Robin it's something far more special.

Because yes, it's been a while, but he'd recognize that cry anywhere.

He's just heard his daughter for the first time in over a year.

"It's alright, my darling," he whispers into the emptiness of the apartment, hoping she can hear him somehow, "Papa's coming home soon."


	23. Chapter 23

_I swear I did not mean to go without posting new chapters for so long again. There's been a lot going on with me, guys, sorry about the delay._

 _You should know, we're getting very close to the end, I think as per my outline there are 27 or 28 chapters total, counting the epilogue, so we're almost there!_

 _I will try and have another update for you after Thanksgiving._

* * *

The scent of warm, freshly brewed dark roast pulls her from sleep on Monday morning, a hint of sweetness wafting from the kitchen as the morning sun streaks its light into the room.

Regina smiles, her eyes still closed, and breathes in deeply. She loves the smell of coffee.

Except she's here, in bed, not in the kitchen making breakfast. Bess is in her crib by the bed, and Henry is most likely still asleep, since none of their alarms have gone off. What's more, Regina distinctly remembers writing down _Get coffee_ on a post-it she'd stuck to the pantry, after she brewed the last available cup before they left for Storybrooke on Friday.

She is up and flying out of the room in seconds, but finds nothing when she reaches the kitchen, and the mouthwatering smell is gone, replaced by the sweet scent of the gardenia Robin had sent yesterday.

It hits her then, realization smacking into her with Robin's words from his last letter. She hadn't thought it possible, hadn't believed that there could be a way for their timelines to communicate or glimpse into each other like this. He'd been so sure, but there was just no possible way to explain it, and had she not been so exhausted that she'd fallen asleep mid-writing last night, she might've told him he was most likely seeing things.

But now she knows that this is exactly what he'd meant. That smell, it wasn't... it wasn't real, it was... an echo of his timeline into hers.

Her hand flies to cover her mouth, tears forming —but not brimming, not yet— as the importance of it finally sinks in. He's right, it's not sad as she expected, but quite thrilling instead, to know that he's here somewhere, preparing his morning coffee. And good coffee at that, not the could-be-better Colombian decaf she's been buying at the nearby store.

Still, she needs to confirm it, to figure out what it truly means and how it can affect them, so she grabs her phone and dials the number for The Dragon's herbal store.

His greeting is a low, mystical, "Good morning, Regina."

"Is it real?" she asks, and she doesn't have to tell him what. He has to know. He always knows.

"The echoes?" he starts. "Yes, I believe they are."

"And you couldn't tell me this before?!" she snaps.

"You didn't ask," he answers, and it makes her blood boil. But this is how he is, he only gives you answers when you specifically seek them out, not before.

"So all these echoes, will they affect the magic? Could they keep us from—"

"No," The Dragon interrupts, "they are merely ripples of the timelines as they merge. It's like ghosts, in a way. You'll continue to see them, and they'll continue to disappear, until one day, they don't."

"You mean I could see... I could see Robin? Talk to him?"

"Sadly, I do not think the ripples are that powerful. Remember, this is Robin's past, he has already lived these days on his timeline. He didn't see you then, so I doubt you will see him now. However, there will still be moments where your timelines will join for the briefest of seconds, and that will manifest in little things you might be able to see or feel."

"Like the coffee just now," she supplies in a whisper.

"Yes," his voice says soothingly on the other end, adding, "This is good news, Regina, it means the magic is working."

"Yeah," she says distractedly, "I... I have to go. Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

The line goes dead, and Regina doesn't realize it at first, but after a few seconds, her own loud breathing alerts her to the reaction she's having to all these news. It's confusing, and painful, and wonderful.

She pulls out a fresh sheet of paper from the package in the bookshelf, knowing there's a big chance she might wake Henry with how noisy she's being. The plastic wrapping crunches in her nhands as she maneuvers it to pull out the crisp, white page, and just as her son pokes his head out of his room with a groggy _Hi, mom_ , she sits down to write, her "Good morning, sweetheart" a murmur as she focuses on the paper.

 _Dear Robin,_

 _You were right about the echoes. I had one!_

 _I'll admit, I didn't think it could happen, but I woke up this morning and I smelled coffee, only I didn't have any in the house, so it must have been you. The Dragon has confirmed it. He says it will be little things, that it's unlikely we'll see each other because the echoes aren't strong enough for that, but it's happening, and it'll become more and more frequent the closer we get to the merge._

 _It's so strange, to know that my present is your past, that you've already lived through these days and that I could feel or see something from that time at any moment. I've never encountered magic like this before, and I can't help feeling like it's being created just for us as time passes, to keep our hope alive, or maybe to taunt us, I don't really know, but knowing you were there, even if it was just a brief second... it felt incredible._

 _Thank you for the beautiful gardenia, the whole bedroom smells like it now, though I long for the scent of that fresh brew I caught this morning. Care to tell me what coffee that was? It has to be better than the one I've been buying lately. Switching to decaf has not worked out well for me._

 _Have you had any more echoes since yesterday?_

 _Love,_

 _Regina._

She's disappointed when he tells her that aside from a quick cry from Bess, there haven't been any other echoes just yet, but he insists there will be more, and that he's excited to discover them. He tells her he almost cried when he heard his daughter, and that he's hoping that particular ripple is one that will have several repetitions. _Maybe one of these days I could hear her laugh_ , he tells her, _I would love that._

Over the next few days, she tries to create these echoes, does peculiar things that she thinks -hopes- might ripple into Robin's timeline. She lights scented candles, buys a new bedspread with a swirling pattern in bright colors, even starts using up her block of Post-Its by leaving little notes taped to the fridge and the TV screen at night, hoping they'll be gone by morning.

The notes don't make it, but Robin does tell her of the sweet smells of her candles, and of the grapefruit-scented salt scrubs she's used in her baths, even tells her once that he saw a flash of purple on the bed...

Henry is overjoyed with the news of these new ripples, and his enthusiasm is contagious.

"You should make lasagna for lunch tomorrow," he tells her one day, just after she's put Bess down for a nap. "So maybe Robin will smell it and think of home."

"Are you really asking for Robin, or is it for you?" Regina asks suspiciously, narrowing her eyes playfully at him.

"For Robin!" he defends, adding with a mischievous smile, "I mean, I figured I might as well reap the benefits. But yeah, mostly for Robin."

Regina laughs at that, and teases, "Well, if this is how it's going to work, then you'll be sad to know Robin doesn't like Indian food, so maybe you'll have to stop eating it, lest the smell reach his timeline."

Her son has been experimenting with different restaurants in the area, trying to find something that will fill the hole left by the Mongolian barbecue place when it was closed and sold off to the Capparellis. Regina hadn't been too thrilled about all the takeout dinners at first, but he'd found a great Indian restaurant just one subway stop away, with wholesome, tasty dishes she couldn't say no to, and it has now become their standard Thursday night dinner, with a few other days in between sometimes, thanks to the magic of delivery.

She's told Robin about this place in her letters, and was happy to read in the one he'd sent her last night that he had finally stopped by to try the food and loved it. Henry doesn't know that yet, though, and so she takes a moment to tease him about it.

"Is he serious?!" he claps back, his voice a pitchy, indignant thing. Regina nods, amused.

"He says it's too spicy," she tells him, trying very hard to keep her tone serious and her face expressionless as she adds, "So if we're going with the idea of creating echoes with the smells of our meals, then your chicken tikka masala is probably not the best choice."

Henry frowns at that, miffed, and protests, "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" she returns with a raise of her eyebrow.

"But you love that place, too!" her son argues, and he looks so put off by this now that Regina chooses to take pity on him.

"I do," she says, waiting for a moment before she adds, "and so does Robin."

She sees the moment it clicks for Henry, sees that brief hesitation cross his features, his nose scrunching up in confusion just as it did when he was ten. And then his frown smooths over as he laughs, "You were kidding."

She nods, moving closer and running her hand over his hair with a smile. "I was," she admits, "Robin tried it yesterday, he said he loved it."

The sigh her son gives in return is so long and so deep, it's like he's just been told the world isn't ending after all.

"Good. The food there is delicious," Henry says, thinking for a minute before venturing, "But we can still have lasagna tomorrow, right?"

"On one condition," she agrees. Henry nods eagerly.

"You help me prep the ingredients, and then watch the baby while I cook."

Henry smiles, tells her "Deal!" and heads to the kitchen for a glass of milk.

* * *

Sadly, the lasagna trick doesn't work, but they have a nice meal regardless, and co-write a letter to Robin telling him about it. His answer is cheerful, and he tells Henry to simply keep taking photos of everyone and sending them along, that echo or no echo, those are his favorite gifts. Henry seems pleased by that, and resolves to include their more decadent meals in his little photo sessions, so that Robin can see even if he can't smell.

Regina's life becomes a steady routine of solving Storybrooke's mayoral issues over the phone while she plays with Bess; spending time with Henry after school; and whiling away her nights watching for echoes, for any sign of Robin. But other than the random times where she notices the scents of his soap or shampoo, there really isn't anything else that she can claim comes from him.

That is, until two weeks later.

She doesn't notice it at first. Opens the fridge and carefully pulls out the carton of skim milk, ready to pour it on the dark roast she'd purchased at Robin's recommendation. It's when the door of the fridge swings shut that something out of the corner of her eye has her pausing.

There, held by yellow and lime green ABC magnets, are the very first photos she sent him.

One is the shot of Roland and a much tinier Bess from months ago, the one she'd had Snow take and text to her so she could print it for Robin. The other is of Regina herself and Henry, a quick shot she'd taken of them smiling and sitting on the couch of this very apartment.

The carton of milk falls from her grasp as her hand moves to the ends of her hair, much shorter now than in that photo. She'd cut it last week, when the humid weather of summer in New York became just way too much for her waves to handle. She'd sent a lock of it to him, a silly thing, but one he'd appreciated more than she expected he would.

In the next blink, the photos are gone, but she notices the echo was longer this time around, had kept those photos on her fridge for a good fifteen seconds before they disappeared, and Regina can't help the onslaught of emotion that washes over her at the idea that in just 47 days, the merge will be permanent.

Thankfully, the carton is new and unopened, and with no spill to clean it's easy for her to resume her mission, to bring it to the table and pour a bit of milk on her steaming cup of coffee.

And if her hand still shakes a little when she stirs in a tiny bit of sugar, well, no one has to know.

* * *

When the calendar is down to 41 days, it is a hot Wednesday morning, and Regina is rummaging through her drawer for something sleeveless to wear when a flash of white catches her eye.

It's the corner of a folded sheet of paper, worn and a little frayed from use, and as she pulls the drawer out further, a sob breaks out of her.

Her handwriting loops around Robin's name, and she knows, just from looking at it, that this is the first letter she ever sent him. It's a letter she never intended for him to get, a farewell she'd written down when she couldn't find any other ways to express her grief, and there it is, folded neatly into the drawer, stored away like some sort of treasure.

And it is, she supposes.

Her hand moves to grab it, to touch it, but just as her finger is about to coast over the weathered white, it disappears, vanishes before her eyes, and that finger lands in the soft cotton of her clothes instead.

Regina sighs, pulls out the cropped red top she'd been wearing when she found the book all those months ago, and starts to get ready for the day.


	24. Chapter 24

**_Oh, boy, it's been a while. Sorry, guys. There's been so much going on and I've been participating in themed weeks and such so it's taken me a while to get back into this story._**

 ** _Hopefully you're all still here? Drop me a line? Tell me if you're still reading? And if you liked this chapter?_**

* * *

Robin wakes up one morning feeling warmth beside him.

It's fleeting, doesn't last more than a few seconds, but those few seconds are real, and strong enough for him to understand the meaning of the echo, to bask in it before it disappears. Regina is there, waking up beside him, even if he can't see her.

The heat of her body remains on the bed for the next couple of minutes, and his hand runs over the sheets as he takes it in, breathing deeply and catching (or is he imagining it?) a quick whiff of that lavender scent he's come to associate with her. Perdita doesn't enjoy waiting, and he can hear her whining from the living room, but just this once, he decides to indulge for a moment.

They have less than a month to go now, and the closer they get, the more impatient he becomes. He'd thought it'd be the other way around, that after such a long wait, he'd be able to hang on for a few more days without issue, but now that the possibility has become certainty, now that he knows he'll get to touch her, to see his children again in just three weeks, it's like his heart is beating faster. The adrenaline of the moment is making anxiety and excitement bubble inside him in equal measure, his nerves battling with the joy of almost having his life back.

The diamond ring he bought now rests safely inside its black velvet box, tucked away in a corner of his drawer, waiting for Regina's delicate hand.

It's a modest ring, not exactly the kind of thing that a queen would wear. But she's not just a queen, she's Regina, and the moment he'd seen the simple band and diamond glinting at him from the store window, he hadn't been able to shake the image of it on her finger.

He'd been taking some extra work as a handyman with the Capparellis and other local businesses for the past few months in order to afford it. He's not exactly sure if it's a real job, considering the amounts he is paid are magically cloned and refilled for his patrons every night (Robin wishes the same thing happened with his own version of that money after spending it, but Regina and the Dragon have explained that because _he_ isn't frozen in time, his expenses cannot be reversed); and he doesn't know if it really counts as _months_ , considering the timeline repetition, but his elderly friends and their fellow business owners always give him something new to help with on top of his repeating tasks, so he had finally managed to put enough money together with his own savings to purchase the jewel two days ago.

The thought of finally giving it to Regina is one he holds onto as he goes about his routine. He feeds Perdita, walks her for a few laps around the park before they head to the bakery, to help Mr. Capparelli with his oven for the millionth time. It's usually a pattern he finds comfort in, but his patience is wearing thin as he keeps imagining his reunion with Regina, fathoming all the different ways in which it can happen. Will she be waiting, he wonders, or will she simply appear next to him when the clock strikes midnight on that final day?

In his letter that night, he asks her how she's faring, and her answer has him chuckling as he reads.

 _It's torture_ , she tells him, _I don't know if there's anything I should be doing or if I should be preparing in any way, and The Dragon is no help, all he does is give me cryptic answers about patience being a virtue and trusting the magic and all that. The man is a walking fortune cookie._

When he writes back, he tells her he loves her, that he can't wait to finally be with her, and she echoes the sentiments in her answer, tells him she's ready for all this waiting to finally be over.

The next morning, an echo occurs in the form of a flower vase appearing on the coffee table, full of brightly colored blooms that liven up the area. Flowers he has been sending her for the past few months.

It thrills him to see that she's saved them all. Every last one of them magically preserved in the vase, just as she'd told him, and catching the sunlight that streams in from the window.

Perdita sees it, too, and then barks when it disappears, turning to Robin with an expression akin to outrage.

"I know," he tells her, petting and scratching just behind her ear. "I wanted to keep it, too."

His correspondence with Regina is full of encouragement, of words of hope and patience, and the bright spark in every letter is comparing the ripples they've caught from each other's timelines.

Regina tells him that she spotted a to-go box from the Capparelli bakery last night, and caught a glimpse of Robin's raincoat on the coatrack this morning. Robin, in turn, tells her about the flowers, about the warmth on the bed, and about the quick but blessed moment where he was able to get a glimpse of her underwear in the top drawer of the dresser.

 _Of course_ , she writes, _out of all things, it's my underwear you see._

He teases her, answers her note with a cheeky, _I'd love to see a photo of you in that little red number I caught before the magic took it away. It's quite cruel, you know, to have such pieces just sitting there, not being worn._

Her next note is accompanied by two polaroids, each depicting a different red underwear set, both masterpieces he can't stop looking at. All the note reads is _Pick one_.

 _I wouldn't dare,_ he writes, _That would be unfair._

 _Oh, would it, now?_ she answers.

 _Of course, my love,_ he insists in his reply, _I refuse to play favorites._

 _You're impossible_ , is all she says in return, and he laughs at her candor. But sure enough, fifteen minutes later, he gets two more polaroids of the same red underwear sets, only this time Regina is in them, smiling deviously at him in one, biting her finger in the other. Stunning in both.

 _You spoil me,_ he writes back. _I can't wait to take those off you._

On and on it goes, with them sending flirty letters back and forth as they while away the days, and time seems to slow to a crawl the closer they get, as if it wants to prolong their separation.

Of course, Robin knows that isn't really happening, that it's just his mind playing tricks on him, but he can't help the glare he gives his calendar every morning when he wakes up and finds that it is not yet the day of the merge.

When said calendar informs him that there are only nine days to go 'til that fated Tuesday, he attaches a photo of himself to his daily Good Morning letter, captioning the image of his smiling face with _So you can recognize me when we meet next week_ before he tucks it into the book and sends it along.

 _As if I could ever forget those dimples,_ she writes back, and the flirting continues throughout the morning. He can imagine the smile on her face, that easy little grin that only he can draw out of her, and it makes him ache for her that much more.

Robin enjoys his breakfast by looking through the many photos he's collected over the past few months. The adorable ones of his children, the breathtakingly beautiful shots of Regina that Henry has passed along, and the miscellaneous pictures of their life in New York. The little pile of Regina's enticing polaroids is safely stored in his bedside drawer, filed away for more... physical indulgences that he'll partake in later tonight.

In the letter she sends over lunch, Regina tells him that she saw his toothbrush this morning, and that just a few minutes ago she found the bathroom mirror fogged up again. It's the echo that repeats the most on her end, and considering the number of showers he's taken since he's been here, he supposes it makes sense that Regina would catch some of those as they wait for his past to meet with his present.

Robin wishes he had known back then that their separate timelines would ripple into one another. Maybe he could've left messages in that mirror for her to read whenever the echoes appeared to her; a secret _I love you_ , or a hopeful _Almost there_ to help ease her apprehension (and his).

They still have their letters, though, and they keep to those as the days pass, flirting and joking, until it's time for Regina and Henry to head to Storybrooke for the weekend, the last one before they're all together again.

He sends a letter for his son, one where he excitedly tells him that it's almost over, that he will see him next week. Next week... he can hardly believe it. In just a few days he finally gets to hold his son in his arms and hear him laugh again, gets to see how much he's grown...

It's the last letter he'll ever send to Roland, and he delights in it.


	25. Chapter 25

**_Figured we could all use an update after tonight's last episode._**

 ** _Some of you have asked, and I'd like y'all to know that yes, I will continue writing. This isn't the end of the fandom, guys, we've been at this pretty much on our own for two years, no reason to stop now =)_**

 ** _Hope you guys enjoy._**

* * *

Five days before the merge, right as they're leaving the apartment to head to Storybrooke, she hears him.

It's a whisper, so low and distant she's half inclined to believe she's imagined it, but it's her _name_ , uttered softly, reverently, and she knows, she just knows it's real, that it's him, probably reading one of her letters. She wonders which one it was, assumes it must be one of their first few racy ones, because the only other times she's heard him say her name like that are when he's buried inside her and gasps a devoted _Regina_ into her ear.

She says nothing of it, but her teeth sink into her bottom lip in a private smile as she reminisces their steamy nights in Camelot. God, she misses him. Thinking of him like this is a bad idea.

It becomes an even worse idea when she can't _stop_ thinking of him throughout the drive (thank god Henry and Bess sleep in the backseat throughout the whole thing), and when they're finally in Storybrooke, she's too pent up and riled to socialize. Roland is off camping with his uncles until tomorrow, the Charmings tell her, so as soon as Snow comes to pick up Henry and the baby for a sleepover at her place (apparently little Neal insisted that Bess was invited, too), Regina takes full advantage of having an empty house, and sets her trusty vibrator to good use.

She looks at the few naked photos Robin has sent her, reads his sensual letters over and over as the wetness builds between her legs. He's told her in plenty of their exchanges that he wants to use the vibrator on her, that he wants to taste every inch of her, and she thinks of that now, creates mental pictures based on memories of their past dalliances, and surrenders to them.

It's nowhere near as good as it would be with him there, but it does the trick, has her undulating her hips, seeking more of the incredible vibrations as they send a current of pleasure through her...

"Robin," she gasps as her back arches on a particularly sharp wave of that tingling bliss, the vibrations bringing her closer and closer as her mind conjures more and more images of Robin, naked and glorious above her, his mouth descending on her nipples and sucking hard as she rakes her nails over his back and pulls him flush against her...

She comes with a little whine, overwhelmed by sensation. Five days, she tells herself, just five days and she can feel him again.

Her limbs feel like jelly. Relaxed. And after a quick shower, she changes into the T-shirt and sleep shorts that Robin would wear when he spent his nights here.

Regina sinks into her bed and stretches like a cat over the soft sheets, until the fresh pine scent of Robin's clothes soothes her enough to sleep, her breaths even and deep as she gives into her exhaustion from today's trip.

* * *

Roland arrives promptly for an early breakfast, jumping into her arms and screaming his delight when Regina hands him the very last letter his father has sent him before they meet. She lets him read this one out loud all on his own, at that slow, measured pace he's built up to in his weeks of learning, and she smiles proudly when he gets through the entire thing with only a few pauses in between words.

" _Dear Roland_ ," he reads, " _Can you be—lieve— the wait is al—most over? I can't wait to... see you._

 _Regina says you've— been taking very good care of her, and that you and Henry have b— both been great big brothers to Bess... so I wanted to tell you that I am very pro— proud of you._

 _I'm ex— ess— exs—_ "

"Excited," Regina supplies patiently, her arm wrapping just a little tighter around his shoulders as he mimics the sound.

" _I'm ex-ci-ted to see you_ ," he continues, turning to smile at Regina when he gets the word right. " _We are going to have so— much fun being together again._

 _Tell Uncle John that— he can ha— have my bed at camp, because we will be sta— staying in Regina's house..._ "

He pauses at that, looks up at her with wonder in his eyes. "Is that true?!"

It makes her happy beyond belief when she's able to reply, "Yes, sweetheart, your father and I discussed it and we agreed that we want to all live together here, as a family. That is..." she pauses, suddenly nervous, "if... if you want to?"

For a moment he just looks at her, and then his face breaks out in the biggest, most dazzling smile.

"I want to! I want to!" he shouts, and she's not expecting the hug he gives her, but appreciates it all the same when he climbs into her lap and throws his arms around her. She hugs him back tightly and returns his quiet "Love you, Regina," with a simple, _I love you too, Roland._

Silence stretches on for a few minutes, until Regina prompts him to continue his reading, and Roland happily remains in her lap as he goes over the last few words on the page.

" _I'm so— very happy that I get to— be with— you all soon. Save your biggs— bigss—_ "

"Biggest," Regina corrects gently.

"Biggest," Roland mimics, " _Save your biggest hug for— me. I love you. Your Papa._ "

They sigh together as he finishes, and then, as always, he hugs the letter to his chest for a moment and asks, "Are you sure I can't come with you?"

He knows he can't, has been told over and over again that 'the magic won't let him,' and still he tries, because he's only a child, and all he wants is to see his Papa again, grows more desperate to do so as the days draw closer.

It breaks her every time, but once again she gives him a sad smile and says, "You can't, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

Roland deflates at that, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and Regina rushes to reassure him, "But I promise you I will bring him to you very soon, okay?"

He nods, still pouting as his finger plays with the corner of the paper in his lap.

"How about I have him call you from New York when he arrives?" she offers then. "We can do a video call like the ones Henry and I do with you, but this time your father will be there. Would you like that?"

He perks up then, nods and tells her "You promise? As soon as you find him?"

She nods, smiles and confirms, "I promise."

* * *

When Sunday rolls around and it's time for her to leave, it feels heavier, a charged kind of energy coursing through her as she packs the last of her things into her bag and brings it out to the car, where Henry waits with Roland and the Merry Men.

Her son looks anxious, though, a little awkward as he stutters around a low "So, Mom, I... I think the baby and I should stay here this time."

"What? What are you talking about?" Regina asks, confused.

"I just... think it's better if we stay," he insists, blushing as he speaks. "That way you and Robin can, erm... be alone and, um... stuff."

"Stuff? Henry, what's wrong? Did something happen while you were camping?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mom, please just... I already talked to Grandma about it, she said she and Grandpa will take Bess and I can stay with Emma, and we'll see you when you and Robin get back, okay?"

He doesn't wait for her answer, running back into the house and ignoring her when she calls back "Henry Daniel Mills, come back here and tell me why you're acting so strange!"

"Safe drive, Mom!" he shouts from somewhere inside, and Regina then trains her eyes on the Merry Men, stabbing John with a particularly sharp glare, until he sighs and gives up.

"We were having a few pints by the fire yesterday and, um... I got a little chatty."

"Chatty?" she pushes, glaring at him still.

"Henry may have... overheard me telling Alan that, uh..."

"That what?!" Regina snaps, unable to take his hesitation any longer.

"I said you and Robin would break the bed when he came back, alright?!" John finally confesses, his voice dropping along with his gaze as he mutters, "It was a stupid joke, but Henry heard us. I'm sorry."

An exasperated huff breaks out of her. "You're an idiot," she fumes, and John rolls his eyes, repeats that it was a simple joke.

"And besides, he'd gone to bed like an hour before, how was I supposed to know he was awake and roaming the camp?!"

"You shouldn't have been talking about our sex life in the first place!" Regina throws back, and at that, John looks properly chastised. Good.

"I'm sorry," he says again, more sincerely this time.

Regina sighs, her frustration showing once more as she says, "Just... stop talking about sex in front of my children, and get out of my sight before I maim you."

The Merry Men scatter at once, still fearing what is left of the Evil Queen in her, and only John remains, giving her one last "I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again," before he joins his comrades.

She's too mortified to go back to Henry, too embarrassed by John's comments to even try to convince her son to come back with her. And, well, it's only a couple of days, right? She and Robin will be back the second they find each other. Henry has already said his goodbyes to his friends in New York, she'd heard him on the phone with some of them, telling them he'd be moving back "home" soon and promising they'd keep in touch. But still, it irks her that her teenage son now has a very inappropriate mental image of how her reunion with Robin will go, and she has Little John to thank for that.

Emma's yellow bug is approaching, turning the corner onto Main Street, and so Regina grits her teeth, fists clenched, and gets into the Benz, driving off without trying to dissuade Henry again from staying home, hoping he won't tell Emma what he heard last night at the Merry Men's camp.

As soon as she arrives at the farmhouse, where Snow and David have now taken up residence (and cheesily decorated with way too many birdhouses and a field of sunflowers where corn used to be), she cringes, seeing that familiar glint in Snow's eye.

"So," she starts, "Henry said you and Robin will be needing some time alone?"

"Oh, god, not you, too," Regina answers with a roll of her eyes. Bess is in Snow's arms, and Regina takes her, focuses on bouncing and making her laugh rather than address her stepdaughter's curious gaze.

"John traumatized my son," she gives, and Snow giggles, prompting Regina to grouse, "Shut up."

"You have to admit he had a point, though," Snow presses on. "You've been apart for a year, things are bound to get... raunchy."

"Excuse me?!"

"Oh, come on, Regina, you and Robin together again after so long? It won't be just the headboard, that whole damn apartment will rattle," Snow presses on.

"Quite the princessy vocabulary you got there," Regina chides, ignoring the actual comment and bouncing Bess in her arms, looking straight into those big blue eyes as she says, "I'm off to collect your Papa, baby girl, and I will see you again very soon."

It's like she understands, like she knows how important this is, because she smiles, and babbles, then waves her bye-bye when she's transferred back into Snow's arms.

"We'll take good care of her, and she'll be right here waiting for you to come home," the princess insists, dropping her teasing and giving her a heartfelt, "Go get your soulmate back, Regina."

And so she goes.

The drive to New York feels longer, and the silence has Regina feeling almost manic, impatient, desperate to get to her destination and out of the confinements of her car.

She misses Henry, and Roland and Bess. Misses their laughter, the boys' long winded rambles about whatever they're into in that moment, the baby's gurgling and babbling, her little giggles when Regina tickles her belly. She misses the way the three of them interact together, too, how the boys are such good big brothers to the little dimpled girl, and it's silly, Regina thinks, she _just_ saw them, will see them again in a couple of days, she shouldn't be feeling so nostalgic.

It's the anticipation, she tells herself, the shortening of time messing with her nerves and making her anxiety flare up as she waits for the final day of the countdown to come. She tries to distract herself, to put it off her mind by turning on the radio and playing some random song, but all it does is create unwanted noise in the small space of her Benz, so the attempt at such a distraction is short lived.

In the end, she opts for rolling her window down, letting the strong gusting of the wind drown out the sound of the voices in her head, voices that tell her that something will go wrong, that surely now that she's so close to what she wants, the universe will find a way to keep it from her.

Her phone rings then, and she's relieved for the diversion from her somber thoughts, rolling the window back up tapping the button to pick up almost immediately.

"It's gonna be fine, Mom," her son's voice says over the car speakers, and Regina sighs, her eyes watering at the same time she smiles.

"How did you know?" she asks, swallowing the warbly timbre of her voice.

"I can hear you thinking all the way from here," Henry quips. "You deserve this, Mom. Now more than ever. Just embrace it, okay? You're going to be okay, and Robin will be back and everything will be good again."

"I wish I was as brave as you," she remarks. "But I'm too scared that something will go wrong."

"It's okay, Mom, I have plenty of belief for both of us, I got you covered," her son tells her, sounding so much the adult he's becoming, rather than the child she still sees in him.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she breathes. And then, because it needs to be addressed, she swallows her embarrassment and tells him, "And I'm sorry about what John said, you really didn't have to stay, though, it wasn't— we weren't— I wasn't planning on—"

"Mom, stop," Henry implores, "please, stop. I'd rather not know." He sounds so embarrassed, so squeamish about the whole thing, and well, it makes sense that he would be.

Still, she tries, "I just wanted you to know that we never said we would—"

"Mom!" he stops her again. "I get it, please stop talking."

"Okay, okay," she placates. "I'm sorry."

Henry sighs on the other end of the line, and assures her, "I'm actually glad we stayed, Roland will need one of us to be here for him during the wait, and now he'll have me. We'll be alright, you just be careful and bring Robin home, okay?"

Regina sighs, moved by his words, and answers him the only way she can: "I love you, Henry."

"Love you, too, Mom," he returns. "I'll see you in a few days, okay? And stop overthinking!"

That makes her giggle despite the few traitorous tears that have spilled down her cheeks, and she tells him honestly, "I'll try," before she hangs up the phone.

She arrives to an empty apartment, to the faint scent of pine that echoes from his timeline and embeds itself in every space, teasing her, reminding her, soothing her until she falls asleep with one of his photos clutched against her chest.

* * *

Monday comes and goes at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Regina goes through the motions, cleans and packs and eats and packs some more, then takes a break and occupies her time with books and TV, only to look at the clock and find that barely half the day has passed.

At some point, she realizes even the typical sounds of this constantly active city have disappeared. Ironic, that she would miss the noise of New York, noise she has complained about from the second she got here, but she's come to associate it with Robin, with waiting for him, and so yes, she misses it now.

However, the noise doesn't come. Instead, she hears her own breathing, anxious exhales echoing on the walls of the apartment as if floating through an abyss, carrying back to her and drowning out the bustling crowds, the honking and the ambulance sirens she'd often find so annoying. Regina doesn't welcome the silence, not in the least, keeps wanting to hear Henry's laugh, or even Elizabeth's cry, _something_ that will distract her from all this _waiting_ , but finds nothing except the overwhelming quiet that grows worse the more anxious she becomes.

By the time the sun sinks in golds and oranges back into the horizon, she's tried everything to tame her apprehension, but can't really figure out how to do anything other than fret.

When the clock strikes ten, she decides she should really just go to bed. Sleep and forget until tomorrow, when it's time. But she's changed into her pajamas and drank her tea, read page after page of her current book (not that she retained any of it), even watched some dull TV program, and still, sleep will not come.

It's tomorrow. Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of her battle with the chalice. Tomorrow, if everything goes right and fate doesn't seek to destroy her hope again, she'll be reunited with Robin.

What will it be like, she wonders, when the barriers of time finally fall, and she's able to feel his touch again?

The thought of seeing him, of being held in his arms after she thought them gone forever, it's all too much, and nostalgia mixes with fear, with dread, with the feeling of paranoid cautiousness that tends to overwhelm her when she's on the verge of happiness.

Dawn finds her in the living room, using her coat as a blanket as she sits on the couch, staring out into the street. And when her alarm goes off, she hasn't slept a wink.

Exhaustion weighs down her body, makes her movements sluggish, fruitless. She should really make some coffee, preoccupy herself with the practiced maneuvering of the machine, let the smell of dark roast distract her nose from searching for the scent of forest again... But then even something as mundane as making coffee feels like a task too difficult to achieve right now, tired and emotionally drained as she is.

Her eyes are drooping, but it's more out of the need to clear the scratchy feeling in them than because she's sleepy... or so she tells herself, anyway.

Her body isn't too keen to listen.

Little by little, she relaxes under her coat. It's a little chilly, with the full blast of the AC so close to her, but she's too lazy to grab the blanket on the nearby chair, her body finally finding a comfortable position, one that has her sighing as she slowly, so slowly, closes her eyes and rests.

* * *

...::...

They've agreed not to discuss it, not to set expectations they don't know they'll be able to meet, but that doesn't mean Robin hasn't imagined the moment a million times over. He'd be a fool not to, with how much he's missed her.

However, of all the scenarios his lovesick mind has concocted, waking up with his face pressed flat into the book while dawn has yet to break was not one of them.

His neck aches, his spine cracking and popping as he rises from the stiff chair and stretches. It's not time yet, he knows, but the anticipation is too much for him to go back to sleep. And besides, Perdita's already up, whining and pawing at the front door.

The first rays of morning light begin to peek through the curtained window when Robin comes out of his shower, and it takes him a good thirty minutes to choose an outfit, torn as he is between wanting to look good for Regina and keeping to their agreement of not overdoing or overthinking anything. He settles for dark jeans and a charcoal V-neck tee, and remains barefoot as he walks around the kitchen to get his coffee started.

Leash in hand, he leaves the machine to brew while he puts on his shoes and takes Perdita for a walk; and he can't help but marvel at how much _more_ everything appears to be. It's like the world had been duller before and he hadn't truly noticed. Colors look brighter, noises seem louder, the sun warmer, the air fresher, everything becomes more... _alive_ as he strolls through the park.

Perdita seems more excited than usual, as well. As if she knows this day is important.

"You get to meet her today," Robin tells her, and she wags her tail like she understands what he's saying.

Just the thought of that, of their lives finally merging back together, has him eager to return to the apartment. He makes the walk a short, brisk one, and Perdita doesn't complain, rather skips happily back home with him and sits patiently beside him while he gets his keys out.

What awaits him on the other side of the door takes his breath away.

There, on the couch, with sunlight reflecting the chocolate undertones of her hair, is his Regina.

She's asleep, lying sideways with her head on a cushion. Her hand is resting under her face, pressed between cheek and fabric, her breathing profound and slow.

The children are nowhere to be seen, and he concludes they must've stayed in Storybrooke, waiting for this to all be over so that Robin can come home to them. It's just him and Regina, then, it seems, and he wants to run to her, wants to drag a hand over her skin to see if it's as soft as he remembers, wants to hold her in his arms and never again let her go.

But he can't, not right now, not when she's asleep and he finds himself arrested by her beauty, his eyes drinking her in greedily as he quietly walks closer.

She looks tired, perhaps from lack of sleep the night before. He can see the little purple bags under her eyes as he draws closer, can see her chest rise and fall as she rests, relaxing after what was probably a stressful night.

And all Robin can do is stand there, mesmerized and unable to truly grasp that this is finally happening.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, frozen on the spot, letting the rhythm of her breathing calm his own frantic heart. He can't get enough of the sight of her, the sound of her, all cozy and huddled under her coat as she breathes deeply, lost to her slumber.

All these months of yearning, of desiring nothing but her touch and the gorgeous, live image of her smile, and he's come to find her asleep, peaceful and stunning beyond everything he'd ever imagined.

Perdita's wet nose touches his palm, bringing him out of his reverie.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" he asks in a low voice, and he could swear the dog nods, but attributes it to his own wishful thinking. Perdita stares at Regina, though, not going near enough to touch, but rather surveying her, as if she's been searching for a second human companion and deciding whether the stunning woman sleeping on the couch will do.

Once she's made her choice (a favorable one, from what Robin can see), she turns to look at him and waits. Again, she seems to know how important of a moment this is, so she doesn't intrude when he kneels on the floor so that he's eye level with Regina, watching her.

As much as he wants to touch her, to wake her and cover her in loving kisses, there's a sense of calm about the way she sleeps, a reverent silence in the room that he suddenly doesn't want to disturb. So he lets her sleep, gives her a few more minutes of this strange, merging, borrowed time they have while he removes his shoes and socks and putters quietly around the apartment.

When his hand touches the door of the fridge, the assortment of Roland's drawings that he keeps there, held by ABC magnets against the metal, rattle a little, like wind is blowing through the paper, despite the windows being closed. When Robin turns to look at the coffee table, a vase sits on it, filled with all the flowers he's sent to Regina over the course of their time apart, magically preserved just as she'd said they were. Roland's room is mostly empty, but some of Henry's belongings still sit on the shelves, evidence that they're here, _have_ been here all this time.

Quietly, Robin slips into the master bedroom, Perdita following and making herself at home on the doggy bed Robin keeps by the night stand, as if nothing has changed.

Except everything has changed.

Robin finds the room just as he left it last night, but with a certain lively quality to it he doesn't think he'd noticed before. It's because it smells like Regina, he realizes; the sweetness of roses fills the air, gives life to the neutral colors of the linens, brightens the space despite the blinds being closed over the window...

Her clothes, he notices, are folded and piled neatly into a suitcase that lays open on a chair by the closet. There's another suitcase there, too, an empty one that he assumes she's brought for him, and the gesture touches something deep in his heart, has tears springing to his eyes because _finally_ , they get to go home to their children _together._

Not all her garments are packed yet, though. The second drawer of the dresser is open and showcasing some of her tops, and he takes his time running his hand over them, reacquainting himself with the shirts that are familiar to him, imagining the tight, glorious fit of the ones that are not.

A rectangular tin catches his eye, nestled into the corner of the drawer. There's no lid on it, and he can see now the countless letters he's sent her, all placed neatly inside. He'd be willing to bet she's organized them chronologically, catalogued every single one after reading it and placed it in this little box like a treasure.

He may as well put his heart in there, too, for it is hers. His very _soul_ belongs to her, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Perdita is now snoring on her doggy bed, napping away while Robin explores the cog piece that is his life finally merging into place where it belongs. His own clothes have appeared now, too, shirts, trousers and the like, magically placed right beside Regina's in that drawer, filling part of the dresser, the closet. Even his towel is now next to hers in the bathroom, their toothbrushes sitting together by the sink. From looking at it all, you'd never be able to tell that they've spent an entire year apart. It seems even the apartment is keen on keeping them together now.

When he walks back into the living room, she's still asleep, in the very same position he'd left her a few minutes ago, deep breaths still rhythmic and constant.

The pitter patter of Perdita's paws against the floor doesn't come, and he knows then that she's chosen to stay in her doggy bed and sleep, while Robin explores and appraises his new reality.

The kitchen is clean, everything in its proper place, cabinets and pantry emptied save for a few leftover things. He wants to make her some food, she's been nervous and he knows how little she eats when her anxiety gets in the way, but cooking right now would wake her, and he needs time for his pulse to stop racing before that happens.

There are a few photos placed in little silver frames around the place, and Robin stops at each one, runs tentative fingers over the images as he yearns for the moments he lost in this long year apart. Most of the photos are familiar, yet somewhat different versions of ones he already owns (slightly different angles in some, a few minor differences in facial expressions on others, each one a complement to the ones he keeps in his box with the letters), but there are a few that are new to him, and that joy that he'd feel whenever a new set of pictures arrived through the book now shoots through him like a lightning bolt, burning away the sense of ennui that's been residing in his heart.

Because he's here now, and he gets to see his children, hold them and kiss them and play with them very, very soon, for as long as life allows it.

The bed is unmade when he walks into the bedroom, sheets twisted and bunched up, the comforter rolled up awkwardly to the side, pillows scattered everywhere. It seems Regina really did have as bad a night as he did. And what a pair they make, both sleep deprived and anxious for what today will bring.

Walking back into the living room, he sits down atop the coffee table, leaning in close and watching her sleep for a few more minutes before he finally, slowly, moves his hand to her face.

The first contact is feather-light, the pads of his fingers ghosting over her cheek, and just that, just that tiny hint of the peachy softness of her skin has him tearing up again, the punch of emotion catching him off guard. He retracts his hand, moving it to wipe the moisture now falling down his cheeks. This is silly, he tells himself, he's been in her presence for almost an hour at this point, why is his heart playing these tricks on him _now_?

 _Because she's real_ , his own voice says in his head, and the truth of that sinks in yet again as he moves that hand back, letting it caress that same cheek a bit more firmly, his skin tingling where it makes contact with hers.

He's thrilled by the way she leans into the touch, the way she chases the warmth of his hand as if on instinct even when he moves it away. Her eyes remain closed, but a smile pulls at her lips even in sleep, her acknowledgement coming out in a low, satisfied hum as she huddles further into the cushions, sighing deeply when she's comfy enough.

Robin can't help the fond chuckle that leaves him, and the sound finally has Regina stirring.

* * *

...::...

It smells like pine. Like fresh laundry and grass and rain and everything that is soothing in the world, and in the midst of waking up she tries to hold onto that, to the comfort she's still dreaming of. Her eyelids are heavy, but she can feel the sunlight shining on her face. Her body is still curled under her coat, the cocoon of heavy fabric providing warmth in the artificial chill of the AC. She's in that limbo, that place between sleeping and waking where dreams take life and taunt her with pictures of Robin's face, with images of his smile.

Speaking of, there he is now, smiling at her as the sun turns his hair into gold, warms the tone of his skin and deepens those dimples as he whispers, "Good morning."

She smiles, because she loves when he does that, even if it's only in her dreams for now; when he greets her with that reverence that was unique in him, that love she's sure no one else has ever shown her. Regina basks in it, breathes in deep and exhales slowly, allowing her body to relax as she feels his finger trail down her cheek...

Wait.

That's... that's not right. He's never touched her before, or at least not in a way that felt so...

Her eyes are open, she realizes. Not closed under the veil of sleep, and the figure before her isn't a figment of her imagination at all.

No. No, no, it must definitely be her imagination, because nothing has happened, no flashing lights, no wave of magic to signal the merge, nothing. She'd been expecting a sign, a definitive mark made by this strange spell as it united both timelines, this can't— this isn't... but it is. It's over. The wait is over.

He's patient with her, trails that finger down her cheek again, and this time she shivers, understanding the importance of this moment as she shoots up from her position, rubbing sleep from her eyes and sitting upright as she stares at him, sitting there on the coffee table and looking at her like she's his reason for living.

"Robin?" her voice is raspy, breaks under the pressure of the storm raging inside her, because she hasn't uttered his name out loud like this in _so_ long. Has spent more than a year without the tangible image of his eyes softening at the mention the way they're doing now.

"Hello, my love," he whispers, his hand cradling her cheek now, thumb rubbing over the apple of it in that loving way she never thought she'd feel again.

In an instant, she's bawling. Tears well and brim and roll down her cheeks in fat, salty droplets as her breath catches, her hands trembling as she raises them to his shoulders, running them over the very solid, very _real_ frame of him and up to his face, thumbs rubbing over his jaw as her eyes drink in the sight of him.

"It's you," she blubbers, because she can't believe it. After so long, after so much pain and uncertainty, he's right here in front of her, eyes shining with his own tears as he confirms, _It's me_.

He crushes her body to him then, wraps his arms around her and brings her in with bone-crushing grip while he stands them both up. And that's good, that's fine, she wants it, wants to have him so close that her broken soul will repair itself with the feel of him, the reality of his presence, the unrelenting devotion he shows her when he tells her, "I'm never leaving you again."

She's overwhelmed, trying and failing to catch her breath as she sobs into his shirt, hands fisting in the fabric and holding there, holding hard, until her nails hurt and her body shakes with the tension. She feels him breathing, feels him _alive_ , and it's almost too much for her fragile heart to bear.

Robin loosens his grasp for just a minute, just enough to bring a hand under her chin and tip her head up, his eyes locking with hers for a brief moment before they close and he leans in. He doesn't kiss her right away, rather runs the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers, in that way he used to do when he just wanted to hold her close and ground himself in her. His breath hitches, and so does hers, Regina can feel her heart beating so fast she fears it might jump out of her chest if he lets her go. He anchors her, keeps her in the here and now with those slow passes of his nose against hers, with the warmth of his breath washing over her cheek, the tickle of his stubble on her chin, the smell of forest easing away her anxiety as his hand delves into her hair.

"God, I've missed you so," he whispers brokenly, running fingers through the roots and giving them a gentle tug. Regina sighs at the feel of it, lets it soothe her racing heart as she finally, _finally_ , brings her lips to his.

She's lost count of how many times she's kissed him in the past, and still she's nervous to do it, especially now, with her mind taunting her with the idea that he will probably disappear, that this all really is a dream and she'll wake up alone again.

But when she pulls away, he's still there, gasping and gorgeous and _real_ , looking at her with all this... reverence, all this raw emotion that it kicks something inside her, drives home the fact that, just as he'd told her once before, months and months ago, they're here now, and this is true.

They gaze at each other for one, two, three seconds of heat, of clarity that this is real, and then he's all but smacking her into him for another kiss, longer this time, hungrier, like he's reaffirming the notion that their nightmare is over, that they can touch and feel and savor and kiss for as long as they want, with no interruptions from this crazy, strange, wonderful universe in which they've found each other at last.

He kisses her again, his lips meeting hers in a frenzy as he inhales sharply and moans. His fingers press against her head urgently, and Regina goes willingly, angling to the side, their teeth clashing and tongues tangling desperately. Those fingers in her hair tighten their grip, pulling just slightly, just enough to make her whimper and deepen the exchange, her tongue exploring him, reacquainting itself with the flavor of him. He tastes like rain, like comfort and purity and every bit of that fervent affection she'd thought lost to her forever, and Regina can't help but take and take, revel in the way his fingers dig into her back now, how his whole body trembles with the weight of this long-awaited moment, his tongue seeking out more and more of her. Her mouth is ravenous, sucking at his lower lip and moaning at the feel of it trapped between hers, her arms wrapping around him tighter, tighter, until she's not sure where she ends and he begins, too wrapped up in the moment to care.

She's crying, they both are, the salt of their tears mixing with the spice of his tongue on hers, igniting that delicious fire that her body has only ever felt with him. They are soulmates, after all, held together by the invisible thread of destiny, and it's never felt more true than right now, when their bodies meld together like they never parted to begin with.

God, she thought this day would never come.

They grow more and more desperate as they try to sate their hunger for each other, but it seems it's never ending. And how could it not be? With how long it's been since they've touched, since she's felt the heat of his breath on her skin, the way he slants his head just so to deepen their kiss, fingers pressing into her scalp, playing with her hair again as he moans her name against her lips and uses the arm he still has around her waist to keep her flush against him.

For a moment after that, they stop, parting only to take the other in. His lips are swollen already, and she imagines her own must look quite similar. He's panting, looking at her frantically, like his eyes don't know what part of her to focus on first. His hands have now moved to her face, fingers running over her cheeks, down her neck, chasing a shiver down her spine until they settle on her ass, resting there as he breathes deep.

"I should take you home," she says breathlessly, reminding herself that they have no time for this, they have a family to go back to. But he's smiling at her in that way he does, with dark eyes and deep dimples that invite her in as he laces his fingers on the small of her back and squeezes.

"I _am_ home," he whispers, and Regina can't help but surrender to the carnal need that burns within her.

Her mouth is back on his in an instant, claiming him as hers, the way he's always been. He returns the kiss eagerly, plunges his tongue into her mouth and desperately devours her. Regina moans, standing on her tiptoes and pressing closer, running fingers through his hair and gripping it at the roots, and she doesn't pull, but her grasp tugs at it just enough to make him moan, to make him bring both hands down the backs of her thighs as he crouches just slightly and picks her up, walking them both towards the bookshelf.

He undresses her desperately, pins her against the wall there and pulls at her clothes, ripping off buttons and tearing up fabric without hesitation, his mouth trailing a path of urgent kisses over every patch of skin revealed. His hands are greedy, grabbing and kneading at her thighs, her breasts, her ass, fingers moving to get rid of her pants, her underwear, and she hadn't intended to welcome him in day-old clothes, or for their first time together after everything to be a quick fuck in the living room, with nothing to show him but simple cotton undergarments. No, she'd thought of a proper bed, and lingerie, and taking their time to learn each other's bodies again, but his desperation fuels her desire, her own raw need for him, and Regina can't bring herself to care about her simple nude panties, or the matching bra now left askew from Robin's fondling, her breasts spilling out of the cups with no lace or silk to frame them.

She doesn't need the trimmings right now, she just needs him. Hard and deep inside her, the way she never thought she'd have him again. They'll go nice and slow later, they have all the time in the world now.

That thought has her gasping with unbelievable joy, and she kisses faster, pulls him in closer, claws at his shoulders as she rakes up the fabric of his shirt, tugging until it's over his head and off on the floor, joined in seconds by his jeans and boxers, until he's naked and hers for the taking.

He puts a hand between her thighs without preamble, thumb rubbing quick circles over her clit, and the strangled _Regina_ he all but sighs in response has her pulse quickening, a little cry escaping her when his mouth moves to her nipples, sucking hard at one and then the other, his free hand joining those efforts and kneading at the swells. But her bra is still on, still haphazardly restraining her breasts, and so that hand of his moves back, pulling almost violently at the clasp until the bra falls off, his face instantly burying itself in the valley it uncovers, tongue trailing a wet path up and around to her left breast, back down to her nipple where he sucks again, those two fingers on her clit pressing more firmly now, riling her up until she's panting and begging him to fuck her.

"Please," she implores, her voice high-pitched and breathy. "Need— I'm— oh, god, yes!— Need you inside me."

Her words only seem to spur on his need to make her come, his hand shifting so he can push two fingers up into her, his thumb taking up the little frantic circles on her clit, and _So good_ , she tells him, encourages him to go quicker, deeper, grinding her hips down onto his hand as her mouth resumes its hungry kissing of every bit of him it can reach, nails digging into the back of his shoulders possessively as she holds onto him for purchase.

"Need you," he gasps, almost inaudibly into her neck when he rests his head there, his hips bucking against hers, erection pressing intermittently into her thigh as those fingers keep moving, plunging hard and deep, crooking just so to instantly reach that sweet spot, playing that melody of arousal along her body like he never stopped.

"You remember," she says deliriously, moaning out a " _Robin_!" when he hits that spot a little harder.

"I remember everything," Robin rasps back. "Been dreaming of this all year. Of making you— _fuuuck_ , yes, that's it," he derails his speech when her hand wedges between them to wrap around him, adding pressure as she pulls, thumb rubbing at his tip. "...making you come for me. Again and again."

She's gasping, scratching at the bare skin of his shoulders with her free hand, asking him to please go deeper, harder, faster, she's so close, can feel it building and building, Robin's fingers spreading wetness along her clit before they push back in and circle inside her, reaching that spot one more time, another, and another, a never-ending stream of pleasure that shakes through her whole body, has her falling slack against the wall as her hips grind down into his hand, her mouth greedy and desperate against his.

Her hand has stopped playing with his cock, distracted as she is by everything else, but she resumes her actions now, pumps him long and firm, her forehead hitting his shoulder and resting there as she looks down at his hand against her, fucking her while she gives him another teasing little tug, making him moan her name on the next pass.

She loses her grip then, and opens her eyes to find him going down, bending his knees enough to grab her around the backs of her thighs and lift, half-slamming her against the wall for purchase. Her legs open and wrap themselves around him, and she can feel the tip of his cock brushing her entrance, her own moans echoing his at the feeling.

He's as tender as she remembers, but famished now, desperate, his mouth pulling at her lower lip as his cock finally enters her, filling her in the most pleasant way while he moves his mouth to her neck and sucks.

"Yes!" Regina cries out, unashamed of her pleasure, and then brings her lips to his in another wild kiss, her hips undulating to take him in deeper, loving the way he reacts to the movement. He's grasping her harder, fingers digging into her thighs as he presses her yet tighter against the wall and starts thrusting. It's choppy and hard, and her back might bruise a bit from the way she slams against the unforgiving surface on his every thrust, but it's worth it, it feels so good, so fucking good. She's been waiting so long for this, to feel him this way, and now she has him, hard and fast and needy, and she can't get enough.

Robin tilts his head downward then, and Regina lets hers fall back, so that his lips can reach her neck, and _Ooohhh_ she has missed that, those little sucking kisses along her overheated skin while he fucks her. He shifts them there, hiking her knee over the crook of his elbow and holding her leg up while the other drops to the floor, freeing his other hand so he can toy with her breast, giving her nipple a little roll before he moves that arm back, his hand kneading her ass as he kisses her.

She shoves a hand down between them, rubbing over her clit, and all the while his cock is pounding into her, mounting in speed and force as his breathing becomes more shallow, and it takes him a few thrusts, but he finds that sweet spot again, shifts the angle of his hips and moves his hand from her ass to the wall for leverage, so that every drive into her now hits that little dot of unbelievable sensation, and Regina gasps and mewls and cries out his name as she feels it, her own fingers rubbing faster over sensitive flesh.

His eyes dark and intent on her as he moves, and she can barely keep hers open, what with the exquisite tingling he keeps releasing inside her with every push of his cock. He knows it too, knows exactly how much he's affecting her; she can feel it in the way he moans her name, in the way he tells her how beautiful she is, in the little gasp that leaves him when he hits that spot again and she bucks her hips in response. His voice is a low, guttural thing, peppering words of encouragement into her neck when he buries his face there, little _Yes, my love_ s and _Fuck_ s and _Missed you_ s that have Regina whimpering, the one knee she has upright almost giving out under the shaky currents of bliss that slither through her.

The bend of her other leg over his arm allows them to stand closer together, and she can feel the heat from his body, basks in it, loses herself in the exquisite mix of stimulation, her body trembling as it climbs higher and higher, until he hits her G-spot just a little bit harder, urges her fingers to move over her clit a little bit quicker, and unleashes the electric tidal wave of sensation that's been pent up all this time inside her, waiting for him.

Regina whimpers, and lets out a loud _Robin_ as she comes and comes and _comes_ on his cock, her limbs trembling with the force of it, her voice hoarse as she begs him not to stop.

"Never," he whispers, gasping for breath as he pumps himself inside her faster, harder, until he, too, is moaning loudly as he falls over the edge right along with her.

Her body is shaking, still riding her own orgasm, and Robin doesn't let up, keeps pumping himself into her, coming deep and hard inside her. He slows down a bit after a few erratic thrusts, enough to prolong the delicious feeling and keep her on that high as he comes down from his.

Regina has already moved her hand away from her clit, but his cock remains inside her, her leg still thrown over his arm as he brings his forehead down to hers and breathes. She does the same, takes in the smell of forest, of sweat and sex and _Robin_ that she has missed so much.

"I can't believe we're finally here," he rasps in the scant space between them, and the sheer astonishment in his voice has her smiling.

"Neither can I," she gasps back, and then he's letting go of her leg, moving it down gently until she can stand —albeit unsteadily— on both feet, his arms then wrapping around her waist and holding her to him.

It's there, when they're naked and sweaty and breathing each other in, that tears build and spill yet again down her cheeks, her own incredulous laughter complementing the disbelieving shake of his head as he pulls back and looks at her.

"I love you, Regina Mills," he tells her, the words simple, and soft, and perfect, made all the more wonderful by the way he beams when she whispers _I love you, too._


	26. Chapter 26

**_We're on the home stretch, guys! Almost done!_**

* * *

He's wanted her like this, sweaty and warm and breathless, for so long now, he doesn't know what to do now that he has her. She's in his arms, naked and panting still from their impromptu fuck against the wall, and he knows he should be better, do better, bring her to that comfortable bed just down the hall and worship every inch of her.

It had been his plan at first, it really had been, but he'd been so overwhelmed by the need to feel her that the plan had gone right out the window.

Regina seems fine with it, though, is looking up at him with that lazy, post-coital smile he has missed so much, her face flushed and lips devoid of that enticing shade of red, giving way to the plump, peachy softness that tastes of apples and fire, rendering him useless for any task other than loving her.

Her body is still a little unsteady, her legs just a tad shaky where she stands, and so he pulls away, hands running down her arms until he can lace their fingers together, pulling her along as he walks backwards to the bedroom.

She's smiling still, biting her lower lip as she goes, her hair messy and gorgeous as it frames her face, and god, he was so stupid to think his memories were accurate. There's no way his mind could ever do justice to such an exquisite image.

When they enter the bedroom, her eyes focus on something off to the side, and her eyebrow rises, that smile never leaving her when she says, "I'm not sure if meeting your dog in the nude is appropriate."

Right. Perdita. Of course.

He's surprised she hadn't come barking at them for interrupting her nap (they weren't exactly quiet), but there she stands now, sitting up on her doggy bed and looking quite miffed at the disruption.

"That's quite alright," he explains to Regina, though it is quite awkward to be standing there, naked while Perdita looks up at his face, her own seemingly disappointed in his lack of attire. "She met you earlier."

That has Regina pausing, has him turning back to address her when she asks, "How long were you there before I woke up?"

"...A while," Robin replies, nervous now.

She frowns curiously at him, dropping his hand and crossing her arms over her very naked chest, shielding her breasts from his hungry gaze as she presses, "Why did you wait?"

Robin sighs, walking back to her, his hands moving in a soft caress down her arms, settling on her elbows. "You just looked... so beautiful, more than your photos, more than I remembered. Gorgeous, and... _real_. I couldn't quite believe it at first. And I know you. I know you likely spent the night worrying instead of sleeping, figured I'd give you time to rest."

He's got her there, because she looks away at that, hiding her admission from him. "Maybe."

His hands find her face then, cradling it as he coaxes her gaze back to his. "I just needed to look at you for a bit," he says. "Take in the image of you, your breathing, the texture of your hair..." he buries his fingers in the locks then, massaging the nape of her neck the way he knows she likes, and sure enough, she gives him a little appreciative moan in answer as he continues. "The first thing I wanted to do when I saw you was wake you, kiss you all over. But you looked so peaceful, I wanted that image for a bit longer, wanted to watch you, all cozied up under that coat, snoring away."

"I do not snore," she interrupts with a light smack to his chest, and he laughs, about to insist that yes, she does, and that he finds it adorable, but Perdita interrupts their talk with a loud bark.

"Looks like your girl is jealous," Regina taunts, and Robin turns to the dog, smiling at her. It's still a bit strange to walk around in the buff with her there, though, so he makes his way around to the bed, bringing Regina with him and tucking her under the blanket. He grabs the spare sheet and wraps it around his waist, holding the lot of it bunched in his hand at his hip as he turns to his beloved and promises he'll be right back, he just has to feed the dog.

But Perdita isn't moving, rather has turned her head towards Regina and remains there, still as a statue, watching her.

"I think she likes you," he explains, and Regina chuckles, taps the space next to her on the bed as she looks at the dog. Perdita wastes no time, jumps up on the bed and walks to Regina, pausing to smell her hand as she holds it in mid-air, and then cozying up under it, begging for a rub that Regina is all too happy to give.

"I think so, too," she agrees, moving her hand to scratch just under Perdita's neck, and the dog could definitely pass for a cat right now, Robin can almost hear her purring.

"Alright, come on, girl," he calls, and Perdita huffs out a breath, but licks Regina's hand and obeys the command, leaping from the bed onto the floor and walking out into the living room just behind him.

He finds her food just where he left it this morning, her plates in the same place he's had them since he adopted her, and he fills them both up, one with food and one with water, rubbing her back for a few seconds while she eats before he whispers, "Would you mind staying out here a bit, darling?"

She stops eating, looks up at him for a silent moment, and because he feels scrutinized, he sweetens the deal. "You could pick your nap back up on the couch this time, or on the nook by the window? I know how you love to bark at the birds when you wake up."

That seems to do it, because she licks her snout in response and then goes back to her food, her tail wagging as she continues to scarf down her meal.

Robin sneaks a couple of treats out of the bag he keeps hidden in the cupboard, leaving them by the window for her and patting her head with a congratulatory _Good girl_ before he leaves her. When he walks back into the bedroom, he finds Regina smiling lazily at him, her hair a tousled riot around her face.

"Is she okay?" she asks, and Robin nods, grinning at her.

"She's just fine," he informs her, losing the sheet and climbing into bed with her. "And you, my darling," he continues, "are absolutely stunning."

"I missed that," she says shyly.

"You missed me calling you beautiful?" Robin questions, frowning curiously.

"I missed the way you look when you say it," she clarifies, smiling now.

"Like a dopey fool?" he prods with a grin.

"Like you mean it," Regina tells him, all trace of amusement gone. "Like it's not just my looks but... me."

"Of course it's you," he says, because how can she not know? "Regina, you're the most beautiful human being I've ever met. Inside and out. And I love everything about you."

"I know you do," she says with a tender smile. "This isn't me feeling sorry for myself. I just... missed it, is all."

Robin smiles, and kisses her, tender and loving and slow, because they have all the time in the world now, and he gets to finally enjoy her.

When they part, her beauty punches him in the gut yet again, her face bathed in the light of her bravery, her strength, with trust and hope and that ever elusive glimmer of happiness shining in her eyes. And as he runs the back of his fingers down her cheek, he thanks his lucky stars that this will be his view for the rest of his days.

His hand travels down her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm, until he can take her hand and bring it up to his lips, ghosting a kiss over her fingertips and sighing his relief at just how _real_ she feels. He doesn't think he'll ever get over that, not after so long wishing and hoping for it.

She's smiling at him, a stray lock of hair falling over her face as she watches him, eyes roaming his features, down his chest and back up in something akin to awe, like she can't quite believe it, either.

He's kicking away the covers in an instant, dropping every shred of fabric to the floor until she's bare and unburdened before him, her gaze traveling over his own naked body as her breath catches a bit at the action.

In his efforts to remove the obstacles between them, he's sat up on the bed, knees digging into the mattress beside her, her figure exposed and glorious, ready for him to worship.

He starts small, with a chaste kiss on her lips that turns into a lazy series of little pecks along her jawline, slowly down her neck and back up before he pulls away, his hand now leisurely trailing little patterns with the pads of his fingers over her skin. A gentle loop over her shoulder, a snail-paced line across her collarbone, another down the valley between her breasts, continuing on to her belly button, where he delights in the little squirm she gives in response before he bends his head down to dot a kiss just above it, following the path his fingers have traced and covering it with more soft presses of his lips.

Regina relaxes under his touch, her chest rising and falling gently as she watches him, her hand softly caressing the back of his neck, his shoulders, whatever part of him she can reach as he maps every dip and plane of her body with his lips, his tongue following suit and carving wet, tantalizing lines along every sensitive area of hers he can find, chasing away the goosebumps that rise on her skin as he goes.

"So beautiful," he murmurs into the swell of her breast, right before his tongue swirls over a nipple. She squirms again, and he smiles, treats her to a little suck, then moves away, letting his hand take over once more.

He pauses on her stomach next, peppering kisses and words of his devotion while his hand kneads at her thigh, inching up and grazing more intimate areas with the tips of his fingers, just enough to provoke, to tease, but not quite where she needs him, not quite where she wants to feel him. He senses her frustration, and the fact that he's still so in tune with her body after all this time thrills him, has him testing that connection a little more.

A line of kisses goes from one side of her to the other, descending then over her rib cage until his lips reach her hipbone, meander over her thigh and back up in lazy circles. His tongue comes out to play again, mapping those circles, then leaving little wet trails as he moves inward, each lick, each kiss bringing him closer to where she wants him. She's begging now, muttering _Please_ s and * _Robin_ s that serve to build his own arousal. Fuck, he has missed hearing her like this.

She gives him that needy whimper he's been aching for, and it grows more and more desperate the closer he gets to where she glistens, the smell of sex overpowering his senses as he finally brings his lips to her clit and sucks.

Her reaction is instant, a shaking current that slithers through her body, her hips trembling as he laves his tongue over her clit, flicking at the sensitive little bud a few times before he pushes in, savoring the wet evidence of her desire.

A moan escapes him out of sheer relief that he gets to taste her again, and his hand moves over her body, caressing up her stomach until he reaches her breast and kneads at it, fingers catching her nipple and giving her a little twist, because he knows how much she enjoys that and wants to feel every reaction, every single thing he's fantasized about and missed for so long. He wants to watch, too, so he stops licking at her, lifts his head enough to get a good look at her face, skin flushed and warm, eyes closed in blissful surrender (that is, until it's been a good twenty seconds without his tongue inside her, and her brow furrows a little in protest, and it makes her even more beautiful to his eyes).

His face moves back down to where she wants him, tongue licking slowly at her clit, plunging inside her in short, measured bursts that have her undulating her hips into his waiting mouth, his lips sucking at her just enough to make that high-pitched _Oh_ he loves so much tumble out of her, a single, breathy sound that sets his entire world back on its axis.

When he moves to kiss up her body, his fingers replace his tongue on her sex, two of them pushing gently in and out, the warm, wet heat of her making him hard once again. Her arms are stretched above her head, and her hips are circling in time with his hand, chasing the pull of his fingers as she sighs and tilts her head up to kiss him. His tongue immediately finds home against hers, stroking and tasting as he groans low in his throat.

"Don't stop," she says in a reverent whisper against his lips, and Robin nods, keeps moving his fingers inside her, in those unhurried come-hither motions that have little moans escaping her as they kiss, and it's just as he remembers, just as he's dreamt for so many months now. God, he has _missed_ her.

She's rolling her hips against his hand, taking his fingers in deeper whenever he curves them inside her, her hands grabbing onto the headboard above her when he lowers his head to suck hard at her nipple.

"So good," she says, in that low, raspy voice that makes his cock twitch. "You feel— missed— mmm."

It's been a good few minutes now, so he chances a harder push of his fingers, a faster dip inside her wet warmth, and delights in the little cry she lets out, their kiss falling apart at the seams as her mouth opens on a gasp, and another, one more, establishing a rhythm in time with the thrusting of his hand, not too fast, not too slow, but just right, just enough to stoke that fire inside her as he gets to watch and appreciate every delectable inch of her react to his attentions.

"Need you," she tells him, and Robin groans. She's so hot for him, so ready to have him again, so soft and perfect and needy. And he's hard now, so hard, so desperate to feel her. They've been away from each other for so long, he's never going to get enough of her.

"God, I missed you," he rasps when he enters her, his cock pushing into her slowly, so that he can feel the way her warmth takes every inch. "Missed feeling you all— _mmh_ — wet and tight around me."

"Missed you, too," she gasps, adding a soft "Oh, yes," when he's in to the hilt, the tip of him pressing into that magic little spot inside her, and "Fuck me," she whispers, and his whole body trembles as he feels her, so close and warm and _his_.

But he doesn't give into his more basic urges just yet, rather takes his time to enjoy her, to bask in the unbelievable feeling of being wrapped in her, in the gentle pull of her walls around him when she shifts to accommodate, in the little gasps she lets out when that shift makes him hit that spot a little harder...

When he finally begins to move, it's a slow cadence, a slight roll of his hips against her, measured and incredible as he pushes in and pulls almost all the way out, and the sight of her wetness coating him is enough to make him groan out her name.

"Tell me how it feels," he begs her, his voice hoarse as he moves his head down to kiss her again, down her jaw and over her torso, his elbow digging into the mattress beside her shoulder for leverage as his cock thrusts in yet again, a bit harder this time.

"Oh!" she pants, a low "Mmm" breaking out of her as her back arches, bringing her breasts up closer against him. Robin slants his head just enough to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking and delighting in the little squeak she gives in response, her legs opening more so he can get in deeper, his body flush against hers when he bucks his hips again, her little "Aahh" almost unraveling him right then.

"Tell me," he pleads again, this time in a low whisper by her ear before he kisses down her neck, bringing his free hand down to her thigh and caressing there, shivering at the feel of her soft, supple flesh. He grasps at it, fingers pressing into skin, holding her there as his lips move, insatiable, over her breasts. Regina's hands have settled in his hair, playing with the tresses and even pulling a little when he sucks firmly at her nipple. He can feel her nails raking along his scalp, hear her pleasured gasps and the frantic beating of her heart as she nears that edge, and he wants nothing more than to fall over it with her.

"So good," she finally says. "Missed feeling you— aahh, yes, right there!" she whines when he changes the angle just slightly, and he can see how much it works for her, can feel how deep he is, her whole body trembling in the throes of her passion as he switches to her other breast, nibbling at the swell before he treats that nipple to warm, flat passes of his tongue. His hips keep moving, her own grinding upwards to meet him on every thrust, and it's still slow, still measured, but incredible all the same.

When Regina speaks again, a throaty _Mmm, so good, don't stop_ that makes his tongue tangle wildly with hers in reply, her body picks up the pace, and the faster rhythm has him all but growling an "Oh, fuck, yes," into her mouth, his cock hard and pulsing inside her, driving them both closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure he never thought he'd feel again.

Robin pulls back slightly as his free hand moves down, wedging itself between them to strum at her clit while his other arm continues to hold him up above her as he bucks his hips against hers. His fingers tease at her clit, dip to join his cock inside her and pull back out, slippery and wet and rubbing at her clit again. He's touching her the way he knows she likes when she's this close, this needy, and she reacts with a loud "Oh, god!" that has him smiling before he kisses her once more, a lazy exchange that becomes more of a mingling of breaths, mouths open and hovering over each other as sweat builds on their bodies, his skin sliding against hers with every deep thrust.

He'd meant to go slower, to enjoy every second and taste every inch of her, but now that he's inside her again, that he can hear her, feel the heat of her desire, admire her, watch as she bites her lip to keep from screaming because she's so close to coming, he can't hold off, can't resist the urge to pound into her fast and hard like he did earlier against that wall, because god, he's so desperate for her, so _in_ love with her. He's a dehydrated wanderer in the desert, her body no longer the beautiful mirage he'd grown used to but a real, breathtaking oasis, sating his thirst with her passion, her whimpers, her breathy chants of _Yes_ , and _More_ , and _Oh, Robin!_ , and the unwavering, earth-shattering force of her loving, resilient heart.

The loud cry of her near-release is sweet torture, and he's panting her name in between his own noises of pleasure now, _Regina_ , like his life depends on it, on telling her just how good she feels, how much he loves her, wants her, forever.

"I love you, too," he hears her reply, so quietly amidst her gasps that he almost doesn't catch it. His eyes open and fall on hers, the spark of happiness peeking from that dark, hypnotizing brown that has seen so much sorrow; the fact that he's put that happiness there with words he hadn't even realized he'd said out loud is what finally drives him to the brink.

His thrusts are suddenly faster, deeper, his desire winning out as he fucks into her over and over, hitting that spot inside her just right as his fingers move furiously over her clit, accelerating the climb of her arousal until she topples with one of his well-placed sucks on her nipple. He comes mere seconds after she does, his moans mixing with hers, and he doesn't stop moving, drives into her again and again, enraptured by the way every push has her arching her back as new pleasure ripples through her.

When her body starts to twitch a little with his thrusts, a sign of _slower_ , of _too_ much, he winds them down, undulating his hips rather than bucking into her, until he finally comes to a stop and lets his weight fall gingerly atop her. Regina's arms wrap around him, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as she dots kisses along his jawline, holding him to her as she catches her breath.

She keeps her legs open and makes no move to reposition herself on the bed even after he pulls out of her (the little groan she lets out at the loss of him sends a pleasant shiver down his spine; fuck, he'd forgotten how much he liked that sound), so he stays right where he is, his softening cock pressed between their bodies. It's not exactly comfortable —things are a bit messy down there, he should probably get up and clean them both— but it feels so good to hold her like this, to _be_ held by her, he just wants to indulge for a little longer.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her shoulder a couple of minutes later, finally pushing himself off of her and flopping down on the bed beside her, sighing after his apology.

"What for?" Regina asks, frowning at him in her confusion, and damn if it doesn't make her look even lovelier. She's turned to lie on her side now, facing him with her head propped up on her hand, elbow sinking into the pillow. Her hair is tousled and wild, her lips plump and pink and thoroughly kissed, and her naked breasts are a sight to behold, rising and falling with her every breath. Words he'd spoken long ago bubble up to the surface now, wrapping around his very soul with the strength of their truth.

 _Stunning. In every way._

"Robin?" she asks, bringing him back to the moment.

"I meant to take it slow this time," he explains, turning to mimic her position and running a hand down her bare shoulder. That arm of hers shifts, until she can take his hand, her smile growing as her fingers play with his in the little wedge of space between them as he keeps talking. "I wanted to take my time with you..." he leans in for a kiss before he continues, "...have a few moments to just... touch you, watch you. Make you feel good."

"You did make me feel good," she counters, giving him a seductive little smirk that Robin is sure would disarm any man. "And I..." she pauses, looking shy, of all things, when she tells him, "I like knowing that you want me."

"Oh, I do," he clarifies, grinning at her before he dots a kiss to the tip of her nose. "Quite desperately still."

It makes her smile bloom and shine, her eyes focused on him as she bites her lower lip and says, "Good." And she's so beautiful he can't help but kiss her again, long and slow, savoring her and enjoying every second. Her lips are swollen and perfect, growing warmer and faster as the kiss progresses, her hand cupping his cheek before it moves to the back of his neck, anchoring him to her, and Robin moans his bliss into her mouth.

When they part, it's with a wet little pop of their lips, and she sighs longingly as he stands at last.

"Just a minute, I promise," he tells her as he makes his way to the bathroom. He's as quick as he can be while he washes, and then grabs a fresh washcloth from the linen closet, running it under warm water before he walks back into the bedroom.

Regina sighs when he runs the cloth between her legs. He keeps a gentle rhythm, cleaning away the remnants of their lovemaking as tenderly as he can, enjoying the feel of her under his hand. She hums in appreciation, watching as he moves and shooting him a briefly disapproving look when he throws the cloth on the floor after he's done.

"I'll pick it up later," he says with a chuckle.

"I didn't say anything," she gives back, but there's a knowing grin on her face that makes Robin shake his head in amusement.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he teases, and she raises her eyebrow at him in curiosity, until he sighs and picks up the cloth, walking away from her again and depositing the offending item in the near-empty hamper. They'll have to do that last load of laundry before they leave, and oddly enough, it's the thought of such a domestic task that has him smiling like an idiot as he walks back to bed, instantly seeking her warmth and holding her close. Regina gravitates toward him easily, huddling under the arm he wraps around her and fitting perfectly along his side, the picture of contentment as she sighs and lands a kiss on his chest.

"How are the boys?" he asks in a quiet voice, his thumb rubbing along her shoulder. "And my daughter—"

"In Storybrooke, all three of them. Henry thought it'd be best if we..." she pauses, and he can feel the heat of her cheek from where it rests on his chest, her embarrassment even more evident when she mumbles, "...if we did this alone."

"Do I want to know?" Robin asks, chuckling at her strange reaction.

"Ask John when you see him," she laughs.

He frowns curiously at her, narrowing his eyes as he tilts his head to the side, insisting, "What happened? I'd rather hear it from you."

Regina sighs, then launches into her story with a frustrated roll of her eyes. "Apparently," she starts, "Little John and some of your men thought it'd be a good idea to make jokes about our... sexual activities... in front of my son. I tried to explain that that wasn't... that we weren't... planning on any of that, not with him here, but I ended up making it worse. He was so traumatized he begged to stay behind."

Robin chortles at that, a rumbling laugh he hasn't felt in so long. God, he's glad to be back.

"Would you like me to talk to him?" he asks, his mirth fading into a smile.

She surprises him, pulling back to level him with a wide-eyed stare and a "God, no! Let's just... I think it'll be a lot less embarrassing for all of us if we never bring it up again."

"As you wish," Robin says, laughing a bit still.

Regina smacks him lightly along his rib cage, chiding, "It's not funny."

"My darling, look where we are," he points out. "Seems to me the lad had the right idea."

"Robin," she warns, giving him a look reminiscent of the Evil Queen she used to be, and it only makes him chuckle again. But she's frowning now, looking just a tad ashamed, and Robin can't help kissing her. His lips linger on hers, firm and unmoving, a long, chaste smooch that settles her, makes her sigh and kiss back as her hand cradles his cheek, thumb rubbing along his jaw.

"I love you," he says when they part, "and as embarrassing as I'm sure it was for Henry, I'm glad we were given alone time so I could have you all to myself for a bit. I missed you so much, Regina."

Her reply is a low "And I, you," accompanied by a long exhale as she cuddles back against him. She rests her head on his chest as his arm wraps around her again, his lips peppering kisses along her crown, his nose buried in her hair, taking in the sweet, soothing scent he has so terribly been yearning for.

They doze for a bit, ten minutes or so, and as the day unfolds outside in the streets of New York, they remain in this quiet, perfect bubble. He can't stop touching her, can't stop dotting little kisses on her forehead, her temple, the bridge of her nose, anywhere his lips can reach. Regina returns the favor by kissing a little pattern along his chest, but mostly she just holds him tightly, and he's sure she doesn't really realize just how strong her grip is, but he doesn't mind it, revels in it, in fact; it's been so long since they've had this, so long since he's slept wrapped up in the softness of her skin, that the mere idea of letting go makes his chest ache. He wants to stay just like this forever.

It seems, however, that Regina has different ideas, because after a few minutes, she's trying to push away from him, pausing only when he instinctively tries to coax her back into his arms.

"As much as I love this," she explains, "we really should start packing."

She's already standing from the bed, but he catches her hand in time, and she turns with an inquisitive stare.

"Later," he begs her. "Please, just... stay a moment. Let me hold you."

She smiles at him, then lets him pull her back the rest of the way, until her naked rear lands back on the bed, her body curling back into him. He squeezes her, his heart beating faster with the force of his love for her. It's unbelievable how much he's missed just having her in his arms like this.

"That's better," he sighs into her hair, and feels the slight shake of her shoulders from her answering laugh. Her hand lays flat against his chest, the warmth of her palm seeping into him as he breathes in this blissful moment.

"I missed you," he says then. "I know I've said that a million times already, but..."

"I missed you, too," she answers, lifting her head to look him in the eye as she adds, "For a moment there, I... I thought this wouldn't happen. I thought... that maybe something would go wrong and I'd never get to see you again."

Her voice breaks towards the end of her statement, and Robin feels for her, cups her face in his hand and thumbs away the stray tear that escapes her.

"I'm here now," he reminds her. "And I am never going away again, Regina. You've been through enough, you deserve... _we_ deserve to be happy."

"You know, for soulmates destined to be together, fate seems to really enjoy keeping us apart, let's not tempt it," she counters, and it's an attempt at humor, sure, but Robin can see her fear right through it, so he tries to reassure her.

"You're the great love of my life, Regina. You and our children are my happiness, and I'm not letting anything stand in the way of that ever again," he says fervently, his hand threading in her hair to bring her closer, until those bloody gorgeous lips of hers are close enough that he can seal his promise with a kiss. "From now on, we make our own destiny."

Her eyes are filled with more unshed tears now, and she smiles and kisses him back, holding his face to her and salting the sweetness of her lips as those tears finally fall.

When his head falls back into the pillow, her body is half-draped over his, her leg thrown naked and smooth over his thighs as her arm loops over his stomach, her mouth puckered and kissing the exposed skin of his chest, until she finds a comfortable spot to rest her cheek and dozes off again.

Robin has never felt happier.

"There's one thing I'd like to do before we leave," he says into the air, after an hour of silent caresses has passed and he feels her drop yet another kiss on his chest.

Her hand is still moving over his stomach, tracing its contours as she asks, "Oh?" in a low voice.

"Mm-hmm," he replies, his fingers gentle as they slide along her shoulder blade, down and down and back up to the back of her neck, playing with the hair there as he elaborates, "I want to introduce you to some friends."

"Do you, now?" she teases, and Robin nods, his chin tickled by her hair as he does.

"Mmhmm," he insists. "I think it's about time they meet the woman I've been pining for all these months."

That signals the rupture of their little cocoon, as the prospect of the new activity forces them out of bed and into the shower.

He touches her all over, helps spread soapy suds along her wet skin, warm water cascading down her breasts as he kneels before her and kisses along her legs, running the sponge down the backs of her thighs and then up, up, up as he follows with more kisses, giving her nipple a slow suck before he continues on his way. Her eyes are closed when he reaches her face, her mouth half puckered and waiting for a kiss, and he gives it to her, wraps his arms around her waist and lets the hot water wash away their sweat and their anguish. She's slippery and wet and perfect, humming pleasantly as she turns him, taking the sponge from his hands and bringing it to his back, kissing his shoulder blade before she covers it in soap.

It's incredible, being here like this, with steam swirling around them as if hiding them from the world. He loves having her naked and in his reach, smiling peacefully as he kisses a line down her jaw.

"You're so beautiful," he tells her when they've exited the shower, kissing her shoulder as he stands just behind her in front of the bedroom mirror, watching while she buttons up her shirt.

She smiles at his reflection, turns in his arms and kisses the tip of his nose, her hand settling on his cheek, thumb rubbing over his stubble. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispers, and his _Me, too_ is muttered against her lips, his arms tightening around her as they indulge in yet another kiss.

* * *

Walking out into the city feels quite surreal when his hand is holding hers. Robin hadn't realized just how alone he'd felt here until now, when he can take in the beauty and chaos of New York with Regina by his side. Perdita trots happily with them, her leash grasped in his other hand as they move down the path that has become so familiar to him over the course of the past year.

The sign for the Capparellis' bakery looks more vibrant and inviting than ever, and Robin smiles at the sight, exhaling a laugh as he finally walks through the door with Regina, just like he's been dreaming about for months.

The bell alerts Mrs. Capparelli to his arrival, and at his "Good morning, Edna," she turns with a smile.

"It was morning hours ago, young man," she greets, chancing a glance at Regina. "But good afternoon to you. And who might this be?"

"This," Robin says, his chest swelling with pride, "is Regina."

Mrs. Capparelli answers with a gasp, her hand flying to her chest as she looks Regina up and down and lets out a very emotional, "Oh, of course you are."

Before they know it, the elderly woman is cleaning her hands on her apron and wrapping her arms around Regina in a tight hug, swaying her from side to side as she says, "We've heard so much about you, I feel like I know you already!" and then she pulls back, stares at her face and adds, "In fact, you even look familiar."

"Everyone looks familiar to you, Edna." Her husband appears from inside the kitchen, muttering the words for what feels the millionth time since Robin met them, but then he stops, his eyes on Regina, and gives Robin a knowing grin as he agrees, "But in this case I think you're right. I never forget a smile."

Regina is grinning a bit nervously, her grip on Robin's arm tightening the slightest bit before she takes a couple of steps forward and shakes the old man's hand.

"We met briefly a few months ago," she explains. "When you were still setting up the place."

"Ah, yes, of course. Lovely smile then, too," Mr. Capparelli flirts, his accent making the phrase sound oddly amusing.

"She's taken, Frank," Robin jokingly reminds, and the old man chortles as he shakes his head.

"Now, now, I'm only welcoming the lovely ragazza. Don't get me in trouble with the wife," he accuses, wrapping an arm around Edna and giving her a kiss on the cheek despite the eyeroll she's throwing their way.

Perdita chooses that moment to bark, calling for the Capparellis' attention. They both look down, huge smiles appearing when they see her.

"You got a puppy, too!" Edna says, delighted as she crouches down to pet Perdita. The dog is used to her excitement by now, and in fact, Robin suspects that's exactly why she barked, to get the woman's attention.

"Her name's Perdita," Robin supplies, watching as both Capparellis gush and fawn all over his furry companion. It hits him then, that this is a September 6th that won't be erased from their minds, a September 6th they get to remember.

Suddenly he's even happier, energy flooding through him as he tells them all about how he found Perdita, and all the while he can feel Regina's eyes on him, see the pleasant smile on her face out of the corner of his eye, his arm tightening around her waist as he relates his story. Out of all the September 6ths he had to live, this is most definitely the best one.

"Come, now," Mrs. Capparelli says once he's done with his regaling, her gaze focusing on Regina. "Let me make you lovebirds some lunch—"

Perdita interrupts her words with a loud bark, pawing at the floor with one leg as she stares at Edna somewhat indignantly.

"Aw, don't worry, beautiful girl, I'll make you something, too," she appeases, looking back up at Robin as she insists, "Lunch for all. On the house. Our oven is broken, but I can whip us up a quick bite."

"Oh, I..." Regina seems surprised at the woman's kindness, stumbling over her words as she insists, "You don't have to do that."

"Yes, please, Edna, you needn't worry. And I'll help Frank fix the oven," Robin says, stepping gladly into the role once again.

"Nonsense, dears," Edna presses on. "Today is a magical day, Frank can take care of that later," she tells Robin, then turns to Regina, "And you. You wouldn't believe how long we've been hearing this one talk about you. We must celebrate now that you're here!"

Robin chances a glance at Regina then, that proud smile he can't quite keep at bay spreading on his face as he watches her, agreeing, "You're quite right, Edna, today is quite magical."

Regina grins back at him, and for a moment they just stand there, eyes meeting as they smile like fools, oblivious to the world around them. He wants this forever.

"Oh, look at you two," he hears Edna say then. "You really love each other, don't you?"

"So very much," Robin whispers, not taking his eyes off Regina, and falling in love with her all over again when her smile grows and she nods her agreement. Perdita is standing next to Mrs. Capparelli, and when Robin turns to look at them, she huffs, as if embarrassed by their display. It makes him laugh, his heart too light to find offense in his pet's judgment.

They eat bruschetta with an assortment of delicious toppings, and share some wine as they sit at the corner table Robin has made his during his time here. He chats with Edna about their plans to leave for Storybrooke while Regina and Frank exchange lasagna tips, and Perdita munches happily on the bits of boiled chicken Edna has provided for her. It's light, and fun, and goes by in what seems like no time at all. They're finishing up their meal and saying their farewells less than an hour later, a bittersweet aura descending over them.

Mrs. Capparelli sheds a tear when she hugs him goodbye, promises him he can always count on them, and Regina must be able to tell just how much it pains him to say goodbye, because she's handing the woman a scroll Robin hadn't even realized she had in the pocket of her slacks.

"Should you ever want to visit us in Maine, bring this with you, it'll show you the way," she tells them.

"We can use a GPS, my dear, no need for— ow! Edna!" Frank complains when his wife smacks him on the side. Perdita huffs beside them, leveling Frank with what Robin can only describe as an exasperated look.

"We'll bring it," Edna tells them, waving off her husband's protests and making them laugh. "You two have a good trip, now, and don't forget to call, let us know you got home safe, alright?"

She hugs Robin again, another tear falling down her wrinkled cheeks as she smiles up at him when they part. "Go live your fairytale, honey. Be happy. Oh, I'm so going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Robin returns, offering the woman a sad smile and giving her yet another hug.

"She's taken, Robin," Frank echoes his sentiments from earlier, and they all laugh together as Edna bends down to pet Perdita one last time. Robin feels Regina pull closer into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist as his does the same around her shoulders, and his nose can't help but settle in her hair, inhaling the scent of her and sighing pleasantly.

"Thank you," he hears her say to the Capparellis, "for everything you've done for Robin. For us. I do hope to see you both again soon."

"You'll always have a home here, darling," Edna insists, taking Regina's free hand and squeezing before she waves them off.

They leave the bakery still wrapped around each other, and Robin's heart feels heavier than he'd expected it to.

"Are you okay?" Regina asks when they reach their building.

"I'm going to miss them," he answers. "But yes, I'm alright."

"They'll come visit," she reminds him.

"Thank you for that, by the way," he says then. "I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision. To give them that. Share our world with them."

She's shaking her head, untangling from him and putting her hand on his cheek. "Not at all," she tells him. "I'm glad to do it. They're part of our story now. I'd like nothing more than to bring them to our home and show them everything."

He smiles, leaning in to kiss her just because he can, and just as they're parting and turning to the main gates to head upstairs, they run into a long head of silky blond locks.

"God, I'm so sorry, I'm—oh," Caroline says, her eyes narrowing as they focus on a stiffened Regina. "It's you."

Perdita growls. It's low, almost imperceptible, but Robin can hear it, feel it when she tenses, the leash in his hand tightening the slightest bit.

"It's me," Regina answers, every bit the intimidating royal, and Caroline moves her gaze away, focusing it on Robin instead.

"Have I seen you around here before?" she asks him.

"No, I don't think so," he answers, offering a hand to her. "I'm Robin."

Regina is staring daggers at the poor woman, and Robin is trying so very hard not to burst out laughing at her antics, feeling just a little bad when Caroline shies away from shaking his hand, eyeing Regina with fear as she tells him, "Nice to meet you," and continues on her way.

Perdita turns slowly, standing next to Regina as they both follow Caroline's retreating steps with icy glares, until she's out of sight and Regina turns to pet the dog's head, a whisper of "Good girl" making him shake his head in amusement.

"You're mean," he chides jokingly.

"And she's impertinent," Regina throws back, her head held so high Robin comically wonders if the point of her nose will hit the ceiling as they enter the building. He chuckles at his own thought, and then finds her eyes boring into him as she declares, "It's not funny."

"I love you," he says, chuckling yet again, and she gives him a frustrated eyeroll as her arms cross over her chest, but he can see the way her mouth is just begging to break into a smile, so he chases it, draws her in and kisses her.

"I do enjoy that possessive streak in you," he quips, and watches as her cheeks flush with color.

God, he could cry with how happy he is to have this again.

* * *

After the laundry is done, packing doesn't take them long. His wardrobe is much smaller than hers, and they manage to fold and store everything before three o'clock comes around.

Robin feeds Perdita one more time before they go on the road, and then he cleans up and sets everything in order, packing her doggy bed and essentials in the car, as well as their bags.

When he comes back inside, he finds Regina staring at the near-empty bedroom, deep breaths echoing into the space in time with the rise and fall of her chest, and she looks so beautiful, Robin can't resist going to her, his hands settling on her hips as his lips capture hers.

It's a lazy kiss, full of purpose and promise, of gentle touches and pleasant hums. He savors her, nibbles at that plump bottom lip and sighs when her head veers away to dot little smooches along his neck and back up to his mouth, her arms looping under his and around his waist to bring him closer.

Her tongue is slow, soft and wet against his, a glorious feeling spreading through him at the contact. His skin warms, his body lighting up with a yearning he still hasn't been able to quench, even with her here and in his arms.

"I want you," he says against her lips, taking measured steps to back her against the closet door. The movement reminds him of a time not long ago, when he'd gently pinned her against the walls of her vault. The memory of a whispered _If we don't leave this room, then I think that this still just counts as the first time, don't you?_ swirls in his mind, making his actions a bit more determined as he presses her into the wooden surface behind her.

"Again?" she asks, attempting nonchalance and failing when her voice lowers to a husk. Robin grins into the kiss, murmurs _Always_ as his hand moves down to grasp her thigh and hike her leg up over his waist.

But she's laughing out of the kiss, that raspy giggle he loves so much breaking out of her as she plants her palms on his chest and stops him, her eyes stern despite her amusement as she utters, "We have to go. I've already broken my promise to Roland to bring you straight home as soon as I got you back. I don't want to delay our trip any longer."

She's right, he has to see his children, longs to hold them and kiss them and watch them smile and cry and eat and sleep, take in every single second. They have to go.

He leans in, kisses her softly, and admits, "You're right. Let's go."

The apartment is empty, and save for the two bags of garbage he'll drop off on their way out, there isn't any sign that someone has been living here. No drawings on the fridge, no clothes strewn over the bed or coats hanging from the coat rack. The only evidence of their stay is the vase full of flowers, the blooms Robin had sent through the book now decaying as the magic slips away. Now that the timelines are merged, New York once again becomes part of the land without magic, spells and potions slowly washing away as the loop day is no more.

When they head out to the car, a man is there, waiting for them with a knowing stare. He's wearing a kimono, dark blue with a red dragon etched onto the right side of his chest.

"Regina," he greets. "Robin."

She stops beside him, watching the man apprehensively, and it isn't until he reassures, "I'm only here to say my goodbyes" that she relaxes, her defensive stance changing to one more receptive as she walks the rest of the way to the Benz.

"It's been a long wait," he tells Robin, extending a hand to him.

"This is The Dragon," Regina explains needlessly. "He was a friend to me here. Helped me try to understand the magic that created the loop, and what happened with the chalice."

"Nice to meet you," says Robin, shaking the man's hand. "And thank you."

The Dragon shakes his head, insisting, "No thanks necessary. It is my duty as a believer to study the manifestations of magic. I'm pleased to see it worked out as we'd hoped."

There's a mystical quality to his words, a strange, whispery thing that floats around him as he utters them, and Robin shivers a little in the late summer air.

"We're going home," Regina explains. "I'm assuming our magic will be gone soon enough."

The Dragon nods, confirms, "It might take a couple of days, but it will dissipate."

"Does that mean you won't have magic anymore?" Robin asks, curious.

"Magic is tangible only to those who believe in it, therefore it is accessible to me always. But the specific spell that trapped you here was the result from the power of your sacrifice and the might of Hades's crystal combining in one single strand of magic. That strand kept you connected to Regina, and when she vanquished that chalice, the strand reacted, bringing you both back to each other. That strand is gone now, and its power will fade into nothing after you've left."

"Sounds oddly sad," Robin remarks.

"It is, in a way," The Dragon explains, looking from him to Regina. "But it signals the start of something new for the two of you, a new life. Together. Like you were always meant to be."

"Thank you," Regina says then. "For your help, and for your kindness. I know I wasn't the most patient throughout this whole process, and didn't always treat you fairly."

He shakes his head, chuckling. "My dear, you have reached a level of redemption very few are capable of. You've embraced who you are, the good and the bad, and you've become more powerful and more radiant because of it. You deserve every happiness."

The words move her, and Robin can see how much she's come to look up to him during this harsh time. He had the Capparellis to help him distract from his sorrows, she had this man, this mentor of sorts, someone to help her make sense of things she couldn't decipher herself.

"Thank you," she says, her voice slightly shaky.

"Go, enjoy your life the way you were meant to. And tell your son to visit soon, I may be or may not have found where that Mongolian barbecue restaurant was moved to."

She laughs, nods. "He'll be excited to hear that."

A few more smiles and words of goodbye, and then they're climbing into the car, Regina taking her place in the driver's seat and starting the engine almost hesitantly.

"Are you alright?" he asks, noticing her split second of doubt.

"It feels strange to be leaving," she admits, turning to look at him solemnly. "I guess I still have a hard time believing it's all over."

Robin smiles fondly, taking her hand in his and depositing a kiss on her knuckles. "I know what you mean," he commiserates. "But I'm ready for our future together."

That has her smiling, eyes sparkling with the force of her emotions, and Robin feels proud yet again for putting that smile there.

She sighs, squeezing his hand before she lets it go and grabs onto the wheel. A long exhale leaves her as she looks at the street ahead.

"Let's get out of here," she tells him with a grin, and Robin nods and answers with a relieved chuckle.

"Let's go home."


	27. Chapter 27

**_Here we are, y'all! Last chapter! Can't believe we've reached the end of this story, finally._**

 ** _There will be an epilogue coming soon, and then it's off to my new AU! Hope you'll stick around for that one, too._**

* * *

Regina had expected Roland to be happy. To run excitedly towards them and barrel himself against Robin's legs as he shouted and _woop_ ed and laughed because his papa was back.

Yes, she'd expected just that. And if the crestfallen look on Robin's face is any indication, so did he.

Instead, Roland is shy, cowering behind John even as the burly man takes a few giant steps forward and gives Robin a hug so tight Regina can hear him struggling for breath even in his surprised laughter.

"Took you long enough," John taunts him as he claps a hand on his shoulder, but Robin has his eyes back on Roland now, his foot taking a tentative step as he calls his name.

Roland startles and takes a step back, watching his father with confusion, his brown eyes wide and wet, and it occurs to Regina that happy tears are probably a new concept for him, young as he is.

"Roland?" she says as she walks to him, crouching down in front of the boy and blocking him from John and Robin's view for a moment. "It's alright, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm here."

He looks terrified. Overwhelmed with feeling, so she runs a hand through his hair and smiles, her own eyes itching with tears as well.

"I told you I'd bring him to you, didn't I?" she asks, and he nods, sniffling. Regina stands upright, taking the boy's hand and guiding him forward, her gaze on Robin, who stares back up at her with desperation written all over his face.

John stands to the side, watching it all happen, and there's nothing but silence as she and Roland walk the length of her front yard together.

"Come on," she says gently, sweetly. "It's okay. I'm right here with you. That's it, good job. "

When they reach Robin at the door of the manor, Regina moves behind Roland, sinking to her knees and running reassuring hands up and down the little boy's arms, her face pressing right next to his as she kisses his cheek and insists, "It's okay, baby, everything's okay."

"Roland?" utters Robin again, his voice hoarse with emotion as trembling hands rise, his arms extended and waiting for his son to walk into them.

Roland hesitates a bit still, but takes a small step forward, and then another, until he's right in front of Robin, one hand rising to touch his father's cheek.

"Papa?" he asks in a tiny whisper of a voice.

"It's me," Robin answers, crying freely, and Regina can see how hard it is for him to stay still and not hug his son, his body shaking as he waits for Roland to inspect him. "I'm home."

She's been fighting to hold the tears in, to be strong for both of them, but when Roland sobs and jumps into his father's arms, she can't contain them anymore, lets them fall hot and wet down her cheeks as she watches the little boy weep into Robin's chest and grasp the fabric of his shirt so tight his tiny fists turn white.

There's a loud sniffle beside her, and she turns to find John wiping furiously at his cheeks, eyes trained on the duo hugging tightly on the floor.

"I missed you," they hear Roland blubber, and Regina smiles through her tears as Robin simply hugs his son tighter and chokes out a _Me, too, my boy, so much._

They're both crying and holding each other, Robin's arms trembling as Roland burrows into him, and Regina doesn't dare interrupt, not even when the sky darkens and a few scattered droplets start to wet their surroundings. They're under the roof at the entrance to the manor, they can wait.

She's glad she asked Snow to wait for her call before bringing Bess over. She'd simply wanted Roland to have a moment alone with his father, and this turn of events, while unexpected, proves she made the right choice.

They haven't moved. Robin is still on the floor, clutching his son against him and kissing his curls repeatedly, rubbing a hand up and down his back while Roland shakes and hiccups as he tries to compose himself. It breaks her heart to see him like this, to see them both like this, but a stubborn glimmer of hope has cemented itself in her heart since she saw Robin this morning, and she can't help but smile at the idea that he and Roland get to have this now, they get to comfort each other and hold each other; that Robin gets to assure his son that he's here, alive, and not going anywhere ever again.

It's John who sobers up first, straightening from the round pillar he's been perched on and walking over to Roland, playing with his hair as he says, "See, Roland? I told you he'd look terrible as ever."

That makes the little boy chuckle wetly as he lifts his head from Robin's shoulder, his hands back on his father's cheeks as he studies his face, little thumbs rubbing over the stubble there.

"I beg your pardon?!" Robin asks in an overly indignant tone, and Regina knows he's trying to get a laugh out of Roland. He succeeds, but only a little.

"He kept askin' whether you'd look the same. Told him no amount of magic could ever disappear that ugly mug."

"You do look the same," Roland agrees, gently pinching the skin on Robin's cheek and stretching it a little.

"Ugly as ever, then?" Robin asks with a chuckle, though there are still tears staining his cheeks.

"Regina says you're handsome," Roland counters, and it's her turn to sober up, turning away and hoping her hair will curtain her blush from them while she unlocks the door.

"Let's get inside, shall we?" she says by way of distraction. "Roland, do you want to help me make some dinner while Snow and Henry arrive with your sister?"

He perks up immediately, smiling so big Regina thinks he'll chase away the rain with his very own brand of sunshine. "Can we make apple turns?!" he asks excitedly, she grimaces.

"Turnovers," she corrects, adding, "And that's not a proper meal. How about some lasagna first?"

It's a time-consuming dish to prepare, but she can use her magic to procure the ingredients and put everything together, she supposes. That'll speed it up, and Roland does love watching everything float around the kitchen as she waves them into position.

He seems to be okay with the idea, nods his little head as he wipes away the tears still clinging to his cheeks, his smile growing just a little tense as he turns to Robin and asks, "You're not leaving, right, Papa?"

And she can see it, the pure, unbidden, all-encompassing relief that washes over Robin as he sighs happily and answers, "Never again, my boy."

He follows them both into the kitchen, smiling widely as Roland tells him of all the times Regina has cooked with magic. He begs for more details as they settle around the counter, asks question after question, wanting to hear absolutely everything, to the point where Roland declares, "It's just eggs, Papa, you crack them and you cook them, you've made them before, remember?" when Robin insists he tell him how they'd made breakfast a few weeks ago.

Regina laughs, and Robin gives her a sheepish smile, mumbling an apology. But he doesn't have to apologize, she gets it. She felt exactly the same after Henry recovered his memories, had asked silly questions just to continue hearing him speak, the sweetness of his voice drowning out the anguish she'd felt at not having him close. She won't begrudge Robin that feeling. Not ever.

Instead of calling, she decides to text Snow, letting her know they can come over now. The princess replies in seconds, telling her she's just getting in the car with Elizabeth, and that Henry and David are already on their way over to the manor from Granny's. Regina busies herself with taking stock of what ingredients she needs to conjure, to distract herself from the mounting anticipation of having Robin reunite with his daughter.

David and Henry arrive first, hurrying into the house with little Neal burrowed tightly into his father's jacket to avoid the rain.

"Robin!" Henry yells, and runs into the kitchen to give him a tight hug. Robin's hand flies to Henry's head, ruffling his hair as he hugs him back. Regina can feel her heart doing little somersaults as she watches them.

"Thanks for helping your mum bring me back," Robin tells him. "I heard you were quite brave."

"She did all the work, I just made an evil chalice angry," Henry waves off.

"He did so much more than that," Regina interrupts, walking over and putting her hands on his shoulders as she stands beside him, leaning in and kissing the top of his head.

"I'm sure he did," Robin agrees, smiling at her before he looks back at Henry. "You'll have to tell me everything when we sit down later, yeah?"

Henry is nodding in agreement when John's delighted cheer alerts them to Snow's arrival. Regina watches out the kitchen window as the man bounds out of the house and into the drizzling rain with an umbrella to cover Snow and the baby as they exit the car, both adults quickly making their way inside with Elizabeth clutched firmly to Snow's chest.

"Is that..?" Robin asks, his eyes shining again.

"Wait here," Regina says, rubbing his wrist over the counter, but he stops her just before she can take off.

"No, let me handle it," he begs.

"But..." she trails off, not sure how to word her concern.

"I know she doesn't know me," Robin tells her, and she can see how much it hurts him to admit such a thing. "But I need to do this my way. Please?"

And what can she do but nod solemnly and hope his approach works? It's a tricky situation. Elizabeth is too young to remember her father, so meeting him for the "first" time might be a little overwhelming for both of them, which is why she'd wanted to take Bess from Snow and maybe have this happen in a quieter room, where Regina could guide the child to her father in a safe and familiar environment, just to make it simpler, easier, like she did with Roland. But Robin's greatest quality is his love for his children, his devotion to them, so if this is the way he wants things done, Regina won't question it.

She needn't have worried, though, because the moment that little girl sets eyes on Robin, crouched as he is in front of her on the foyer and offering that disarming dimpled smile of his, she curiously takes one little baby step away from a too-excited Snow White, who coos and cheers and baby-talks behind Elizabeth, encouraging her to keep going.

Henry has encourage everyone to stay in the kitchen, giving Regina a one-armed squeeze and a reassuring kiss on the cheek as he whispers, "We'll keep Roland busy, take your time."

Regina nods, then stays quietly by the door, too focused on the event before her to offer any real assistance to Robin. She's enthralled by the moment, feels a smile growing on her face even as fresh tears begin to fall, because Bess is taking another step, and another, wobbling adorably towards Robin with giggles and drool, her little curls bouncing with every move. She's wearing a ridiculous, forest green knitted romper with little brown booties, and Regina would bet anything this was Snow's way of "dressing her up" for the occasion. She'd roll her eyes at her stepdaughter if she wasn't so focused on the way Elizabeth raises her chubby hands to give Robin two high-fives.

It's a trick she learned recently, one of those things that earns her applause from all the adults in the room (John in particular), so she stands there, high-fives her father again, as if waiting for the praise, and it isn't until Snow explains, "You have to clap," that Robin _Oh_ s and looks back down at his daughter, clapping his hands and telling her how proud he is of her.

But Regina sees the slump in his shoulders, the way he breaks at not knowing his own child's behaviors, and she decides to intervene.

She clears her throat as she walks further into the room, putting a hand on Robin's back and rubbing there as she squats right next to him, saying a happy, "Hello, sweetheart," to Bess.

And to Regina's complete and utter surprise, the little girl shifts her gaze right to her and delightfully screams, "Mama!" as she falls into her arms.

Robin gasps, and so does Regina, but Snow is standing there, practically squeaking with happiness as she declares, "Welcome back, Robin!" and distracting from the awkwardness of the moment with her sunny disposition.

They stand so Robin can receive her excited hug at last, and Elizabeth is now in Regina's hold, babbling nonsensically, but then she says it again while Robin is busy talking to Snow, an unmistakable "Mama!" while touching Regina's face, running pudgy fingers along Regina's red-coated lips and laughing when some of the pigment smudges onto her own skin, lifting her fingers to show her the colorful result.

Regina laughs nervously, then shifts the baby and looks at Robin, who is muttering something to Snow. Regina doesn't hear what it is, but gets an idea when Snow replies, "Oh, please, it was no trouble at all, I love Bessie. She's wonderful. They both are."

"Don't call her that," Regina interrupts, her nose buried in Elizabeth's hair and inhaling the soothing scent of baby shampoo. "It's Bess or Elizabeth, nothing else."

Snow giggles and shrugs, then adds, "I'll give you guys a moment, and don't worry about lunch or anything else, Henry knows where you hide your recipe book, we've got it covered."

Regina is glad to have the chance for some respite, bounces the baby in her arms more for her own comfort than anything else, and watches as Snow smoothes out a couple of wrinkles in her flowy pink top and then makes her way into the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone by the foyer.

Robin starts walking cautiously toward Elizabeth, whispering a gentle, "Hello, my darling," that makes Regina's heart flutter with the emotion it carries. He's trying hard not to cry again, controlling his emotions as best he can so as not to scare the child in Regina's arms, and she supposes his cautious approach is due to Roland's reaction from earlier, but Bess isn't old enough to remember her father dying, isn't old enough to be confused by these events at all, and so she giggles when he tickles her chin, extends her arms to him and lets him take her and hold her close as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

A wet laugh escapes Robin as he bounces her, his composure breaking just a little at the ease with which his baby girl takes to him. They're beautiful together, so much so that Regina almost forgets Elizabeth's earlier slip-up. Almost.

She's never called her that before. Has never called her anything before. And she's been looked after by so many different people since Zelena left, Snow, David, Henry, Granny, John, sometimes even Emma. Regina never imagined Elizabeth would see her as... well, as her mother.

And it's wrong, her mind tells her, because Elizabeth is not hers. She's been making that distinction from the second she found out Zelena was pregnant, repeating it like a mantra in her head. _She is Robin's child, she is Zelena's second chance, she is not yours to parent_.

Robin seems to have forgotten that particular moment, though, too enchanted by his daughter to focus on anything else, and Regina is grateful for the small miracle of that little girl's laughter, because it's easier to simply pretend nothing happened and concentrate on what's really important, Robin's reunion with his family.

And speaking of, Roland comes running to the foyer now, yelling out for his father at the top of his lungs.

"Papa! Papa!"

"I'm here. Roland, I'm here, what's wrong?" Robin says quickly, crouching down with Elizabeth in one arm and cradling his son's cheek as he stares at him in worry.

"I thought..." the boy sniffles. "I thought you left again."

Regina feels her soul crumbling with the revelation, a hand rising to cover her mouth as moisture prickles at her eyes.

"Oh, my boy," Robin whispers brokenly, sinking further down on his knees and using his free arm to loop Roland into a hug, holding both of his children close and crying silently. He takes a deep breath, rubbing that hand up and down Roland's back and kissing Elizabeth's curls before looking up at Regina, who can't really think of anything to say.

She's as moved as he is, his tears mirroring her own even as she smiles sadly down at him.

"I'm here," Robin tells Roland, pressing his cheek into the side of Roland's head and tilting it down to kiss his little shaky shoulder, his arm tightening slightly around him. "I'm here."

Elizabeth seems to realize that the situation isn't a happy one, and looks up at Regina in confusion, her pouty lower lip trembling.

"It's okay, honey," Regina assures her, falling to her knees as well. "That's your daddy. He's home."

"Yeah," Roland says through a stuffy nose, sniffling as he wipes away the tears that didn't make it to Robin's shirt, every bit the big brother as he puts his own fears aside and makes sure his sister understands. "That's Papa, see? He looks just like the pictures Uncle John and I showed you."

Elizabeth lets out a slew of gibberish and laughs, like she's proud of herself for carrying on the conversation.

"She does that a lot, but I never know what she's saying," Roland informs Robin, chuckling a bit through his runny nose and pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Bessie, say Papa! Pa-pa," he continues, pointing to Robin and sounding out the word slowly for Bess to repeat.

"Oguh!" she says then, and Regina laughs.

At Robin's quizzical look, she explains, "That means 'yogurt', she wants a snack."

And this time, he doesn't seem quite so broken over not knowing these things. Instead, he looks amused, maybe even a little excited.

"Well, then I guess we should get her one, shouldn't we?" Robin says, cooing at Bess before he looks back at Roland and asks, "How about we go feed your sister?"

The boy nods, and Regina smiles as she watches them go, taking a moment to breathe through the heavy emotions of this entire day before she, too, joins them for a bite.

* * *

Her house hasn't been this loud in... well, ever. There's people everywhere, Merry Men and townsfolk all welcoming Robin with unbidden enthusiasm, filling him in on all the things he missed, no matter how small or inconsequential.

Robin has taken it all in stride, and Regina knows he's tired, and overwhelmed, and wants to just be alone with his children while he readapts to Storybrooke, but he has touched so many lives here, in so many different ways, and everyone has come out to say hello, and he's too polite to refuse them, despite Regina's many offers to throw them all out for the night.

She's sitting near the fireplace, on her own, watching the flames flicker and dance while the buzz of conversation filters through the room. Robin is standing just a few feet away. He'd been on his way to her, two glasses of red wine in hand as he'd excused himself from the gaggle of people wanting his attention, and then he'd stopped when Granny called his name, and then Doc, and then David, and, well, it's been half an hour and he has yet to make it to her.

Right now, he's politely listening to Leroy talk about the racoon he had to fight off his trash bins a few weeks ago, nodding even as he tries to escape. He flashes her a desperate look and she smirks, knowing he can tell exactly what she's thinking.

 _Should've taken me up on the offer, thief._

Henry is suddenly there, plopping himself next to her on the couch and resting his head on her shoulder. Regina smiles, leaning her head atop his and sighing.

"I missed you," she says in a low voice.

"It was just a few days, Mom," Henry says, incredulous.

"Are you saying you didn't miss me?" she questions, moving away from him so he can see her raised eyebrow as she awaits his answer.

"No! I mean yes! That's not what I meant," he hurries to explain, and Regina laughs.

"It's okay, sweetheart. And yes, it was only a few days, but I missed you anyway."

"I missed you, too," he tells her. "I really did, I promise. It's just, well, I figured you'd be excited to have Robin back."

"And I am, but you're my son," Regina reiterates. "I'm always going to miss you when you're not around."

He grins at her at that, then wraps his arm around her and coaxes her head to rest on his shoulder instead, his cheek pressing against her hairline as his hand rubs up and down her arm.

"I'm happy for you," he says as they both stare into the fireplace. "Now you and Robin finally get to be together for good."

That has her looping her arm around his stomach, squeezing gently as she admits, "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes, well, I'm awesome," he jokes, but Regina insists, _You are_ , and hugs him tighter, wondering when he became this... this man. So mature and charismatic, so —for lack of a better word— charming.

And above all, she wonders how she got so lucky that she got to keep him, despite fate's many attempts to take him away.

"How was Roland? I know we were supposed to call, but—"

"It's probably better that you didn't, considering what happened. John said he was scared of Robin?"

"I should've seen that coming," Regina laments. "It's been so long and everything has been so confusing for him. I should've known he wouldn't react well."

"He's always seemed so happy at the idea of seeing Robin again, no one here thought he would react that way, Mom, it's not your fault."

"I still think I should've prepared him somehow."

"John said you did, when it happened. That you helped him. You did good, Mom."

There's a sense of peace that settles in her chest when he validates her efforts. It may not have been the perfect reunion that she'd hoped for for Robin and Roland, but Henry's support calms her enough to accept it.

"He was fine for the most part while we waited for you guys," Henry adds then. "Kept asking when you were coming home, but nothing more. I think he was just a little shocked at first, to see Robin here, but he'll be okay."

"I hope so," she replies, squeezing her son's hand.

* * *

"So... are we going to talk about what's bothering you?" Robin asks later that night. His arms are back around her, finally, holding onto her on the bed, the fresh scent of pine clinging to her pillows once again.

Robin spent the whole day glued to his children, even lulling them to sleep on the rocking chair in Elizabeth's nursery earlier. Regina had stood by the door, hiding her tears while Robin watched his son and daughter sleep in his arms and dotted kisses on both their heads.

Henry had moved Roland to his room, where a second bed had been laid out for him, and Robin had carefully placed Bess inside her crib, rubbing a hand down her back as he whispered _Sweet dreams, little one_ with such emotion that Regina's heart had skipped a beat.

But the little hint of anxiety over what had happened earlier with Bess had continued to gnaw at her composure, making her fidgety, and restless, and distracted.

"Everything's fine," she tries to wave off, and Robin sighs into the back of her neck, whispers a stern "Regina," before he kisses her skin, begging, "Please talk to me. I saw your reaction when Bess called you—"

"It's nothing," she interrupts. "She's young, and she hears Neal say _Mama_ to Snow all the time, she probably just thinks that's what adults are called. She'll grow out of it."

"Would you want her to?" he asks then, and Regina turns in his arms, facing him as she finally voices her concern.

"I'm not her mother. I have no right to want that from her," she admits, and he looks shocked, baffled by her words.

"Regina, you're raising her. You feed her, clothe her, protect her, sing her to sleep. You love her. You're everything a parent should be."

"But she's not mine to parent," she says. "She's yours. And... Zelena's. I don't deserve—"

"Stop right there," Robin orders, and her eyes widen as he launches into speech. "Zelena used me to get pregnant. She never wanted a child, all she wanted was to have what you couldn't have with me. To spite you. To hurt you. Up until she was born, Bess was nothing but a tool to her, just like I was, and I know, I know you want to see the best in her, and that you want to trust that she'll find her way back to the light like you did, but I can't forgive her yet. I don't think I ever will. In fact, I'm glad she left, and I know that's a terrible thing to say, because she's your sister and you want her safe, and redeemed, and happy, but I'm never going to see her as anything other than the woman who..." he falters a bit there, swallows before he pushes through, "who violated me. And the woman who put my child's life at risk because her magic and her revenge and her selfishness were more important."

"But—" she tries, cutting in when he pauses for air, but then he's talking again, cradling her cheek in his hand as he lets it all out.

"If she were to come back tomorrow, ready to be there for Elizabeth no matter what, ready to be part of a family, then I will gladly let her visit with my daughter and be part of her life, but she will never be her mother, Regina, you are."

That revelation shocks her, has her eyebrows arching upwards as her mouth drops open.

"I'm... Robin..."

"Do you know what Roland said to me during bath time earlier? He said you'd been 'the best momma ever' while I was away. Both my children see you as their mother now, Regina, and I couldn't be happier."

"Roland said what?" she gasps. "But... but what about Marian?"

"Marian is still his mother, the angel that watches over him, but you are his second chance, just like you are mine, and we wouldn't have it any other way."

There are tears running down her cheeks, his thumb wiping away the worst of them as he smiles and watches her. She has no words. No way to describe how she feels right now.

Regina has never allowed herself to think of being a mother again, least of all to Robin's children. She's forced herself to think of them as not-her-own for so long despite her constant presence in their lives, despite how much she loves them, she's tried to not overstep her bounds, to avoid stepping fully into a parenting role, and she knows that those little, persistent kids pulled her in under the wire anyway, but it was something she'd never dare voice aloud, in case it got taken away.

To have Robin's validation of her as a parent, to have his support, his love, his excitement over their future together and her role as mother to his children, has that flame of happiness and hope sparking to life again, undeterred.

She'll embrace it, she decides, and then leans in to kiss him, because he's here now, and she can.

Everything is finally as it should be.


	28. Epilogue

**_Aaaand we've arrived, y'all. The final step in this story, a short epilogue to properly close this little verse and hopefully provide you guys with some cheerful closure. Thanks so much for joining me on this very long ride and I hope you'll stick around for more stories!_**

* * *

It's not everyday that Regina allows herself this. Not everyday that she indulges in a drive to New York instead of spending her day in Storybrooke working, as she should be (she's still the Mayor, after all, and there are pressing issues that need to be dealt with, despite her reluctance to address Leroy's never-ending complaints).

But today is special. Today, she'd woken to the soft touch of a white tulip, trailed over her naked shoulder by Robin's hand. His lips had peppered sweet kisses down her neck, his stubble caressing her skin, and then he'd rasped a Good morning, m'lady, and used his very talented tongue to convince her to take the day off.

And so here she is, walking hand in hand with him through Central Park, her hair waving slightly in the crisp April winds as they take in the array of magnolias, tulips, daffodils and cherry blossoms adorning every area, covering the park in bright colors and catching the soft light of the late afternoon sun.

There are ducklings in the pond, swimming under the bridge just as she and Robin begin to walk up its sturdy cement floor, and Regina stays in the middle to watch the little creatures emerge on the other side, smiling when they _quack-quack_ their way to their mother by the grassy edge.

It is there, on that bridge, surrounded by the cheerfulness of spring, that Robin tugs on her hand to make her look at him.

He's smiling that dimpled smile that she loves, but he also looks nervous somehow, like he's expecting something will go wrong.

"Robin?" she asks, confused.

"I have something for you," he tells her, almost at the same time, and then he's shoving his hand inside his jacket, keeps it there as he continues to speak. "It's the reason I wanted us to come here today."

"Oh?" her confusion grows. She'd thought this was a spur of the moment thing, not an actual plan. That age-old bout of insecurity bubbles up inside her, has her second-guessing and overthinking his motives before she can stop it. He loves her, she knows that.

But he could still leave you, her mind says.

"Regina, stop," Robin's voice breaks through her haze, and she shakes her head a little, focuses her eyes on him, on the concerned look he's giving her. "I love you, and what I'm about to give you is nothing if not a demonstration of that."

She says nothing, but her palms are cold, her body trembling with anticipation. And then that hand of his that had been buried in his jacket is bringing out an envelope, offering it to her.

"I know it's silly, but I... I wrote you a letter, and I'd like you to read it."

"Oh," she breathes, and the sound lingers in the space around them. They're alone except for the small gaggle of tourists having a late picnic near the pond, and the bridge is empty but for the two of them, the rustling of paper loud enough to break through the quiet atmosphere of their surroundings.

It's not a very long letter, not like the ones they used to exchange a few months ago, when it was all they had, but there's something about the familiar feel of the paper beneath her fingertips. Something about the way her heart flutters as she finds the Dear Regina scribbled at the very top, about the warm touch of his hand on her arm as he waits... it all has her anxiety simmering down, has her curiosity growing as she starts to read, her lips quietly forming the words.

"Out loud, please," he requests, and her eyebrow shoots up, a tiny smile lifting the corner of her mouth before she clears her throat and begins.

"Dear Regina,

I know it's a bit ridiculous to write a letter when I finally have you with me, but it felt appropriate for what I'm about to do— what are you about to do?" she cuts in, looking up at him from the paper, and Robin laughs.

"Keep reading," he urges, so she does.

"...it felt appropriate for what I'm about to do, so bear with me.

"We've been thrown about with so many magic mishaps, that I've actually lost count of how many times we've met," she chuckles at that, looks up at him with a grin before she continues reading.

"But in every occasion, from the first moment I see you, I fall in love with you."

The next part is a little awkward, because it speaks of how he sees her, speaks of her in a way that makes her self-conscious to read aloud, but she pushes through, clearing her throat again as she continues.

"There's a fire in you, one that has made you into the brave, stubborn, amazing woman I adore, a fire that warms the very heart of me, and I would like no—"

She stops, her voice breaking when her eyes catch the words that follow, and tears begin to gather, threatening to spill over at any moment. She turns to him then, her mouth open though nothing comes out. All she can do is stare at him, at that maddeningly beautiful smile, and that spark in his blue eyes that she's come to realize is only there when he looks at her.

He takes the letter from her, holds it in his hand as he lends voice to the next words on the page, though his eyes never leave hers, his smooth baritone reciting everything from memory.

"...and I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life at your side. I will fight alongside you, support you, and above all, I will love you, as I always have."

"Robin..." she begins, her tone one of warning, her head shaking slowly as she watches him pull out a tiny black box from the pocket of his jeans.

"Regina. You are my future."

"The last time you said that, you died," she tells him, and her voice breaks again on that last word, the pain of the memory still raw, the fear still raging a storm inside her.

"And because our souls are tethered to one another, I came back to you," he counters, "I'll always come back to you, Regina. Though I'd much rather marry you and never be parted from you again."

A teary laugh escapes her at that, and she's shaking her head as she smiles at him, watches in awe as he opens the box and displays the ring he's gotten for her. It's gold, simple, a flat band with a square cut emerald in the middle and nothing else. The color reminds her of him, of his love for the forest, of the little flecks of green in his blue eyes. It's perfect.

"I wanted to do this here, in New York, where we spent a whole year missing each other," he says, "I wanted this to be the place that saw us make this commitment to one another. And if you'll have me, Regina, I promise I will strive every single day of my life to make you the happiest woman in all the realms."

"You already do," she says, her smile growing as her hand finds his cheek, thumb rubbing over the apple of it as they both lean in for a quick kiss. When they part, Robin doesn't go far, brings his forehead down to hers and breathes.

"Is that a yes?" he asks against her lips, and Regina chuckles.

"You haven't asked," she teases, and laughs again when she sees him realize that yes, she's right, he hasn't asked her yet.

He drops to his knees two seconds later, clumsily extracting the ring from its box and holding it up to her, his eyes shining as he says the words.

"Regina Mills, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and yet the tears wetting her eyes choose that precise moment to fall, streaming down her face as she chokes out a simple _Yes_.

She is in his arms before she can even register his movements, and then his mouth is on hers, planting one firm, ecstatic kiss after another.

They stand close, so close it's a struggle for him to put the ring on her finger, but they manage, and she only has a couple of seconds to admire the jewel before he's wrapping his arms around her again and hugging her tighter, kissing the tip of her nose, her temple, her cheek, her lips.

"I love you," he whispers, his smile the brightest Regina's ever seen it.

Returning the sentiment is as easy as breathing.

She'd said once, that her happy ending was finally feeling at home in the world, and the words jump into her head as she takes inventory of her current state: Robin's arms are wrapped tightly around her, his smile lighting up her own as sunset begins to bathe them in its pink and orange glow. He's here, alive and wonderful and _loving her_ , their three beautiful children safe and sound and waiting for them back in Storybrooke...

She kisses him, holds on to that bright light in her heart that bears the names of her loved ones, that flashes with the memories of what got her here, and just like that, she allows the fire of hope to spread inside her like never before.

Just like that, Regina finally, _finally_ , gets her happy ending.

* * *

The End.


End file.
